


Beyond the Known Boundary

by Kittytoastnjam



Series: Extraterrestrial Hinata [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Space, An alien with a human body, Fluff, Government Conspiracy, High School, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Hinata Shouyou is an alien, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mind Meld, Outer Space, POV Kageyama Tobio, POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Unreliable Narrator, all about the plot, super powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittytoastnjam/pseuds/Kittytoastnjam
Summary: All Tobio wanted for his first year of high school was a new start: a chance to begin anew with teammates who didn't hate him yet, to play volleyball against the best high school teams in Japan, maybe even to make a friend to combat the crippling loneliness that otherwise permeated his life. What he hadn't planned was to discover an alien fugitive in the park.Assuming the name Hinata Shōyō, Tobio's new extraterrestrial BFF blasts his way into every aspect of Tobio's life. Volleyball, school, home- none of it can defend against Shōyō's blinding smile and undeniable charisma, not even Tobio. Of course, behind the indomitable grin lies a recent past that threatens to unravel the lives of Tobio and everyone else on planet Earth...
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Extraterrestrial Hinata [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750606
Comments: 62
Kudos: 135





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> You know what? After posting my (now a spoilerific) one-shot based on my AU, I decided: eff it. I'm gonna post the OG story and I'm gonna finish it, dang it! I'm committing to this journey, so please join me! 
> 
> Since it's going to be so long, I don't wanna bother my friend to beta read and edit for me. So... I mean, it should be mostly fine.

Thin clouds trailed after Kageyama Tobio during his evening run, their escape from his mouth measured with every other step. He did not subscribe to common beliefs like staying indoors when the spring weather dipped. There was very little that managed to interfere with the fifteen-year-old’s self-imposed training regimen. Each draw of chilly air burned his nose but reminded him that the school year was almost upon him, and with it, his first trimester in high school. He faced the incoming change with both trepidation and eagerness which both stemmed from the same source: volleyball. 

A new year meant a new team with stronger rivals and the chance to grow beyond former limits. He had always craved the opportunity to play; it was why he trained as hard as he did. A new year, however, also meant the chance that life would unfold as it had in middle school. His former volleyball career had ended prematurely on the bench, but there was no one to blame for it but himself. An injury would have been preferable to the reality, which was that his team hated him so much they'd chosen defeat over sharing the court with him. Thinking on it as he ran uphill brought a sting of shame to his eyes, so he pushed his pace until the pleasant burn in his legs redirected his focus. It was a new year and that was as far as he would allow himself to go. When finally he crested the little peak, his mind was clear again except for thoughts of his running pace, even if unease settled as a stiffness in his shoulders. 

At the turning point in his run he stopped in a gentle valley where a small park with a children's playground was nestled just off the sidewalk. With a relieved sigh, he wiped the clammy sweat that made his black bangs stick to his forehead and stretched his calves against the miniature chin-up bars. The park was run down due to its tendency to flood during the rainy season but it meant it was often empty, which suited Tobio just fine. At a nearly even 5k from home, it often served as his halfway point in a run, but it doubled as his retreat when the quiet oppression of an empty house became too overwhelming. A short run with a volleyball in his sports bag and an hour or so of passing the ball quietly to himself did wonders for his mindset. He checked the time on his pace watch: barely 7:45pm, no reason to rush into the second half of his run. Not when there was nothing waiting for him at home. He ripped the top from an energy gel and continued to stretch twitching muscles as he meandered through the graveyard of a playground. 

With only a few overhead lights to span the little park, the idea that it might appear haunted had never crossed his mind. In a matter of seconds, however, the notion took a sudden and stubborn root in Tobio's mind when a sharp rustle and low growl pierced the cool air. The boy, bent in half to stretch his hamstrings, froze, gel packet dangling from his lips and eyes wide. A heart rate he had proudly sustained throughout his run skyrocketed and warm legs turned to jelly. 

He scarcely had time to hiss, “Move, damn it!” at his traitorous limbs when a figure crashed through the brush and into view with a low yelp. Tobio’s gaze flicked up at the sudden intrusion and the hot, jittery feeling that had overtaken his body turned into a clammy sweat when his eyes alighted on the source of the noise. He jerked upright with a strangled gasp, but before he could process what the hell he had just seen, the rush of blood after so long touching his toes cast his sight into darkness. 

It wasn't as though he passed out. Tobio was aware of his legs crumbling beneath him and the cool rubber playscape ground meeting his knees. Dizziness, however, washed over him and he blinked furiously to clear the stars swimming across his lightening vision. There was the sound of quick, heavy steps approaching him from the darkness. Instinct reminded him of the danger he was in but his brain seemed unable to turn the instinct into action. It was too late, anyway, as a pair of blurry feet and legs came into view and the heat of strong hands pressed him gently to his back. Tobio’s eyes shot upward and in the same moment, terrified afresh, he squeezed them shut. 

Above him, the figure he'd seen made a confused sort of noise, its voice questioning and concerned, and from his place on the ground, Tobio held his breath. Maybe, he thought, if he played dead, then whatever the  _ hell  _ that thing was would leave him alone. Instead the creature mumbled something else, tone clearly annoyed, and prodded Tobio in the side. He squeaked and leveled a hard glare at the creature by instinct before his face dropped in horror. 

“Don’t kill me,” he pleaded. 

Objectively human in form- two legs, two arms, one head _ - _ the stranger narrowed over sized eyes that looked pitch black in the already dim park light. A curtain of curly orange hair shrouded them from view of the sidewalk. It pressed two of three fingers-  _ three,  _ Tobio realized dimly- against the boy’s forehead causing him to flinch. The creature frowned with a mouth slightly too wide, scrunched a tiny button nose, then clambered onto Tobio’s chest. Air that was already difficult to come by exited his lungs in a rush: standing, that thing seemed no taller than Tobio’s shoulder, but it was heavier than it looked. Again, it pressed its fingers against the boy's face, but with nowhere to hide, Tobio's only choice was to squeeze his eyes shut again. 

Instead of meeting an untimely death at the hands of an alien creature, Tobio felt the terror of the situation leave his stiff limbs like it was melting into the ground. Behind his shut eyes a series of images flitted in and out of view, things he had never seen before but knew intimately in an instant: a golden tree, a dark red sky, home; a series of alien faces, all family, friends. His chest constricted with a wave of fear and homesickness as the back of his eyes became the depth of space, the light of stars streaking by him, then, like being dunked in ice water, the images switched. These he knew because they were  _ his.  _ Tobio grit his teeth and watched the last several years of his life play forward at a nauseating speed until tears welled in his eyes. A surge of anger imparted the strength he needed to slap the hand away from his face and shout, “Stop!” He vaulted the alien off his chest and scrambled to unsteady feet, chest heaving and fists shaking. Fear forgotten, at least momentarily consumed by fury, he whirled on the smaller humanoid and shoved it, shouting, “What  _ are  _ you!”

Finally standing, the alien cocked its head and picked at the loose white jumpsuit that covered otherwise translucent red skin. It pursed its mouth, giving the impression that it was thinking before, hesitantly, it offered, “Sorry.” 

Tobio knew the anger was still there, but it had been instantly eclipsed by astonishment. Asking about its nature was just an angry, rhetorical sort of question, not something to which he'd expected a real,  _ comprehensible  _ answer. “Did… you just talk?” he marveled. 

To his increasing surprise, the alien shot him a glare that could have rivaled his own from earlier. “Obviously.” One of its three-fingered hands ruffled its own hair, then its irritation gave way as it slumped, shrinking even smaller than its already short stature. “Sorry for the Link,” it repeated, gesturing at Tobio’s face with fingers upheld. “I wouldn't have done it without asking, but I needed your language.” 

Tobio squinted. The encompassing fear from moments earlier left his limbs trembling, but it no longer clouded his thoughts like it had before the alien creature had touched him. His own fingers brushed his forehead where the warm sensation lingered after the bizarre exchange. “It’s… fine,” he managed to mutter. Even his anger- much more familiar- had cooled in the moments since. He bounced once on the balls of his feet, staring at the alien, nodded, then began a stiff march back to the sidewalk. 

“Wait!” the alien called at his retreating back. Tobio flinched at the noise that indicated he was not having some odd, running-induced hallucination, and peered over his shoulder. The creature was only a few paces behind him, looking down at feet that Tobio only then noticed also sported just three long digits. He averted his stare back to glossy black eyes when the alien questioned, “Can you take me to your shelter?”

Tobio barked out an incredulous laugh. “No way.” 

“Why not? the alien frowned, crossing its arms over its skinny chest. 

The look of incredulity on Tobio’s face deepened and he gestured at the length of the strange creature. “You’re… you’re an alien!" He almost stopped as the words hung in the air between them and solidified as reality. If there was any skill Tobio possessed, though, it was the ability to compartmentalize. The issue at hand was not the question of the existence of aliens, or the meaning of life or the insignificance of it compared to the vastness of space, or any other grand question that threatened to pull at Tobio's sanity if he considered it. He shoved those ideas into a box, and focused on the question, and the answer was simple. "There's absolutely no way. I can't help you." 

The stranger mouthed the word “alien” a few times following the boy's curt response. Fidgeting with his two primary fingers, the creature reasoned, “I need a night cycle to make a suitable Earthen body. That’s where this is, right? Earth? Of the Helios system?”

Tobio floundered momentarily, his hands flexing wildly as he searched for words. “Yes?” he answered slowly, though he was fairly certain he'd never heard of the Helios system. Earth, though, yes. “What do you mean, 'make a body?'” The worried sweat was beginning to head on his forehead again.  _ There was some kind of movie, right? _ he thought.  _ Where aliens take over human bodies? _

“I just need to redistribute some of my mass to match the form here,” the alien explained, his tone indicating that this should have been clear. “Maybe make a few small biological tweaks. Your star is so big and it hurts my eyes. Changing takes a bit of time, though." It offered Tobio a sharp-toothed grin when it noticed the bewilderment on the Earthling's face. "Are you so underdeveloped that you can’t do that? How do you survive without the ability to change your structure?” 

There was little about the alien's sentiment that made sense to Tobio. His lack of understanding was compounded by the vague lightheadedness he felt at his brain's tenuous grasp on the idea of  _ casually changing internal biological makeup _ like changing clothes. What he did grasp, however, was the tone: challenging, even a little condescending. “It’s weird that you can,” Tobio retorted. "No one would ever need to do that here!"

Apparently they shared the language of confrontation despite their differences. The two glared for a moment longer before the alien huffed, “It's just for one night cycle. You won't even know I'm there, so can I stay at your shelter,  _ please _ ?”

“Sure, whatever!” the boy snapped with a toss of exasperated hands. The situation was already unbelievable; why  _ not  _ go ahead and have an alien over? “It’s not like my parents are home anyway! Can you, I don't know, run or fly or something? Walking is going to take too long.” 

With a proud puff of its chest, the alien beamed. “Of course I can run! The gravity here is like nothing compared to home!” Tobio scoffed again but did not rise to the unspoken challenge this time. The magnitude of the situation lurked at the fringes of his conscious thought and he knew the moment he acknowledged it, panic would probably overwhelm him. No, he needed to keep his eyes ahead and focus on his run. 5k at a seven and a half minute pace. That would be ideal, though he'd settle for eight. He set his watch. Everything was normal and there was not an alien following him with light, bounding steps and an over sized smile.

* * *

“Oh, your shelter is so cute,” the alien cooed upon their arrival to the Kageyama house. 

Tobio fixed him with a scowl that felt surprisingly normal despite the circumstances. “It's called a house and if you don’t like it you can go somewhere else,” he groused as he fiddled with the lock. “Just don’t touch anything. If you break something, I’ll kill you.” With practiced agility Tobio kicked his shoes off and locked the door behind his newly acquired extraterrestrial house guest, who seemed preoccupied murmuring the word "house" and running fingers along the walls. "Don't touch anything," Tobio repeated hotly. 

The alien pouted at the reprimand. "I won't break anything," he assured. 

"Yeah, right," the human muttered as he ushered the alien into the kitchen and ordered him to sit at the breakfast table. "I'm gonna make something to eat," he announced while pointedly avoiding eye contact. Even in the light, the creature's eyes were unsettling, though they were not black as they initially appeared, but a deep, dark brown. "Are you hungry? Wait, can you even eat the food here?" Tobio spared a glance at the alien and winced at the intensity of its inhuman stare. 

But darkened eyes glowed at the prospect of food, their happy squint lending them a human softness. "Probably!" the alien chirped. "The atmosphere didn't kill me so we have to be compatible at least a little bit." 

Tobio hummed his acknowledgement and pulled a second bowl from the cabinet. "It's just left over food from earlier. Probably not as fancy as whatever… alien stuff you normally have," he warned. With his parents away often for work, Tobio thought he was a decent cook as long as the recipe was simple. It was only leftover curry with warmed rice from lunch, but it was one of his favorites. With a certain degree of haughtiness, he prepared it, set the dish in front of the guest and dared him silently to complain. 

The alien only smiled harder and gushed, "It's so pretty! Oh, and it smells good! This is food?" Tobio reached out in time to stop the creature from diving face first into the bowl.

"Use a spoon," he ordered as he offered the utensil. If his voice was brusque it was only to hide the feeling of pride that swelled in his chest. Human cuisine: 1, Alien: 0. 

The alien grabbed the spoon greedily and, after a brief struggle grasping it with only two fingers and a thumb, spooned a mouthful. "You know, I was only going to eat it that way 'cause I figured that's how more primitive beings did it," he informed. "This is really good!" 

"Ok, listen up you little shit," Tobio snapped through gritted teeth as he jabbed his own spoon in the alien's direction. "You can't insult the human race and praise them in the same breath. I don't care if you're from Mars or whatever. That's just shitty." 

The creature expressed its righteous disbelief with a howl and wet spray of food across the table. "You just referred to me as… as  _ waste!  _ Who's waste now! I'm not sure if that's more or less insulting that saying I'm from anywhere in this rural system," it scoffed. 

Tobio could feel the indignation rising as heat in his cheeks. "Get out of my house!" he demanded, fueled by the surge of patriotism for the entire human race he hadn't known he'd possessed.

Across the table, the little alien gaped, its red skin actually glowing now, a faint pink cast across the table. For an instant, Tobio remembered this was supposedly an advanced being from space. It was probably going to fry him with it's weird, three-fingered hand, or some kind of plasma gun pulled from a dimensional pocket in it's shiny, white jumpsuit. With a silent curse the boy braced himself again for inevitable death only again to be surprised when the creature dropped its head to the table and groaned.

"I'm the worst," it mumbled. "I just- no, you're right, I'm being terrible! You're the first human that I've been able to make contact with in three of your night cycles! And you gave me food! I was  _ so _ hungry." It propped its chin on the table and peered up at Tobio with miserable eyes. "I owe you. I promise I won't make jokes at your system's expense again. Please don't make me go!"

The boy grimaced through a complex swirl of embarrassment at the alien's emotional prostration and empathy for being isolated and hungry. Tobio often felt isolated. And hungry. It was very relatable. He relaxed his stranglehold on his spoon, forced himself to take a bite to calm down, then acquiesced with a sigh. "Fine. I won't kick you out," he grumbled. "Sorry for getting all mad, or whatever." 

Without its usual exuberance, the alien nodded and resumed eating in silence. Tobio did his best to keep his eyes trained on his food, but curiosity drew his eyes up every thirty seconds looking for satisfaction. "What's your name?" he blurted after several minutes of silence. 

The alien frowned and chased the last few grains of rice around his bowl before he dropped his spoon with a clatter. "I don't think it's going to translate well," he admitted. In the same low voice from before he said something incomprehensible to Tobio, an expectant look upon his face. Tobio shrugged and the alien sighed. "The feeling doesn't come across, so it's not the same. Not unless there's a physical Link," he mused. To Tobio, who felt as confused as ever, the stranger said, "I guess the closest thing in your words would be, Blessed by Stars."

Tobio raised a brow. "That doesn't sound like a name." 

"What's your name, then?" it responded, in kind. 

"Kageyama Tobio."

The alien shrugged. "Doesn't sound like a name to me either. What does it mean?" 

The boy thought about the characters to write his name, then flushed with self-consciousness. "Sh-shadowed mountain and flying- you know what? It's not important," he asserted with a brief stammer. "It's just the name my parents gave me. Is Blessed by Stars, like..." Tobio paused to think. "Is that a boy's name?" he asked bluntly. 

In the same vein as before, the alien's skin brightened, a faint glow from within illuminating its body. "Of course!" he scoffed. "I told you it doesn't translate without a Link!" He twiddled his primary fingers behind his empty bowl and added an indignant, "Do I look female to you?"

"How the hell would I know?" Tobio replied. "I've never seen an alien before. Besides, your hair is kinda long, so that's a little girly." 

Blessed by Stars reached a hand over his shoulders, as if suddenly reminded of the wavy mass of orange that cascaded down his back. In a voice low and listless, he said, "I've been traveling for a while. I forgot." 

Tobio's curiosity was piqued, both for information about a journey through space and why the fact was so obviously troublesome. "Why are you here anyway?" he probed. 

The response he received wasn't what Tobio expected: for a moment, the alien tensed, shoulders high and hands in fists. His dark gaze met Tobio's almost reluctantly, but a moment later seemed to widen in surprise. After that, he relaxed into a slouch and offered a cheery, "Guess it's like a vacation. Getting to see the different parts of the universe and all." 

Even with humans, there were more times than not that Tobio had difficulty understanding nuanced nonverbal communication. He wasn't blind; it was clear something had crossed his guest's mind. The problem lay in the fact that Tobio couldn't fathom what it was or why it had happened. He seemed cheerful now, but for a moment, Blessed by Stars looked nervous. Tobio had half a mind to ask, then caught himself. What did it matter? He didn't want to become further involved than he currently was. With luck he would never see this creature again. Instead, Tobio finally offered a dismissive snort which seemed to relax the alien further. "Do you want more food?" he asked instead before he set out to cater to the little alien's enthusiastic affirmation.

Once Blessed by Stars had eaten his fill, he began asking Tobio a torrent of questions: Where on Earth were they? Were all Earthlings like the Japanese? How many humans were there? What's the human body made of? Once the interview had (quickly) reached topics for which Tobio had no answer, he huffed in annoyance and booted up his laptop. After navigating to the Wikipedia page for  _ Composition of the Human Body _ and a brief demonstration of the computer’s functions, he ordered the alien to do his own research. When Tobio had finished picking up the house, switched a load of laundry, and exited the shower, his guest was still glued to the screen and clicking through pages with silent, unwavering focus. Tobio checked his watch as he slid it from his wrist: just past eleven. "I'm gonna turn the lights off," he warned, but the only acknowledgement he received was a grunt. 

Once he slid into bed, he took stock of the alien's profile across the room. In the dark and with an electronic glow illuminating only his face, Tobio thought Blessed by Stars was passably human. "You're going to look different tomorrow, right?" Tobio prompted. 

The alien turned and gave him a thumbs up. "I learned this signal shows agreement," he said with a grin. "I'll be human before you know it. Thank you for this information tool." 

"Laptop."

"Ah, right. Can I keep this?"

"Absolutely not. It doesn't really do much without WiFi anyway."

Tobio could see the gears turning and the next moment, Blessed by Stars was back to poking at the keyboard. It was easy to forget, in the dark room, that the boy on the other side was an alien, but Tobio was grateful. It made his passage into sleep easy. 

* * *

A knock on his bedroom door woke Tobio just before his alarm, and he rubbed his eyes sleepily when his mother called, "Tobio? I'm coming in." 

He sat up and stretched. It was a surprise for her to be home early from her work trip. She pushed open the door and smiled at her son. She was still in her business attire, rumpled no doubt from time on a plane. "Good morning, Tobio. Would you like to-"

Then her eyes shifted away from Tobio to the right side of the room, her words dying in her mouth. And Tobio remembered, with abrupt panic, that he'd brought an alien home from the park. 

"Mom-"

"Good morning!" rang the chipper voice of said alien.

Except. 

Tobio gaped, not unlike his mother, as an energetic but utterly normal boy leapt to his feet. He was still short, but he looked more slender, less compact than before. Two feet with five toes each poked from the bottom of his white jumpsuit as did two hands and ten fingers from his sleeves. There was still a mop of orange hair but it was short, rising in unruly waves. Dark bags indicating a lack of sleep puffed under a set of amber eyes that, in Tobio's opinion, still seemed a little too large. 

Tobio whipped his gaze back to his mother who met his gaze with a confused look. His mind was blank and he began to stammer nonsense when Blessed by Stars bowed and said, "Thanks for the hospitality, Tobio's lifegiver and mother! Tobio has saved me when I had nowhere to go and I think that reflects his upbringing." 

The aforementioned boy could feel his face burning and he wasn't sure which of the awkward possibilities was its source: the bizarre manner of speaking, the exaggerated compliment, or the embarrassingly casual use of his first name. "I, I'm, he's a, uh, a f-f-friend! From school? From middle school," Tobio managed to sputter. 

Tobio's mother looked genuinely shocked which added another layer to her son's crushing embarrassment. "It's… nice to meet you," she answered, looking back to the beaming alien. "What's your name?" 

Blessed by Stars flashed him a reassuring smile which did little reassuring to the knot in Tobio's stomach. "I'm Shōyō. Hinata Shōyō," he informed with a proud smile. "And I'm Tobio's friend!" 

Tobio covered his face in a silent plea to return to sleep. 


	2. Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me miss conbini food.

"Are you OK, Tobio?" his mother probed once they'd taken a private moment in the kitchen while _"Shōyō"_ sat patiently in the living room. "You're not in some kind of trouble are you?"

The knot in Tobio's stomach, which had twisted up inside him the moment this began, gave another heavy lurch. "I'm not in any trouble," he intoned, looking at his feet. 

His mother frowned, an act which made their resemblance all the more apparent. "I didn't know you- well, Miwa said you had a hard time last year," she finished considerately.

"You didn't think I had any friends," Tobio supplied, ignoring the sting of the truth and adopting a facade of indifference. "Miwa wasn't even here either. She doesn't know everything."

There was little she could argue on that point. Instead, she smoothed the small cowlick that protruded from her son's straight hair as if it would amend her chronic absence. "As long as you're really not in any trouble," she murmured. "How long has Hinata been here? He said he had nowhere to go."

Though he couldn't see him, Tobio shot an annoyed glance towards the living room and Shōyō. This lie was getting out of hand. "Just last night. He… got in a fight with his mom," he spun. "And she kicked him out. But he's going home today."

"That was very kind of you to help him. I should apologize for seeming so surprised to meet him," she said. "I was going to ask if you wanted to get breakfast with me, but I can give you some money if you'd rather go with your friend."

Tobio shook his head quickly. "He was supposed to leave. We can go." 

His mother narrowed her eyes, curious, but motioned him towards the living room. True to his previous instructions, the alien had his hands clasped behind his back as he peered at several family photos propped on a console table. When she cleared her throat, Shōyō spun on heel and all but jumped at them to close the gap, another electric grin pulling at his cheeks. "Your family looks very nice," he said. "Tobio's always frowning, though, isn't he?"

Tobio was chagrined when, rather than come to his defense, his mother chuckled. "He is," she agreed with a teasing smile at her son. "Hinata-kun, I apologize if I acted rude when we first met. I didn't expect Tobio to have a friend over. You’re welcome here any time.” 

Shōyō’s newly human eyes sparkled with delight which increased Tobio’s alarm. There was no way the alien was going to understand that sentiment as a social nicety and not a literal truth. “Mom, Hinata probably needs to go home,” he argued with a pointed look at the redhead. 

“Of course. Hinata-kun, please make up with your mother and get some rest,” Tobio’s mother advised with the firm tone of a mother’s orders. “Even if she was angry yesterday, I have no doubts that she’s worried about you right now.” 

There had been no time for Tobio to warn Shōyō about the story he’d made up and he bored into him with a look he hoped begged, _Play along._ When the other boy’s face dropped in look of consternation, however, Tobio couldn’t help feeling guilty, even if he wasn’t sure why the alien looked so dismayed. “I’m sure she is,” Shōyō replied, eyes downcast and furthering Tobio’s confusion. There was no way his response was a total act; even Tobio noticed the genuine distress radiating from his voice. 

His mother must have noticed too, because she moved as if to place a soothing hand on the boy’s head, then let it drop with a hesitant bite of her lip. “It’ll be OK,” she assured instead. “You’re a good boy. I can tell.” Shōyō nodded but kept his head down. A bewildered Tobio met his mother’s gaze, who furrowed her brow and motioned him towards the withdrawn alien boy with a jerk of her head. “I’d better just go straight to the local office,” she announced, smoothing her jacket. “I’ll be back for dinner, Tobio, so why don’t you make sure Hinata-kun gets home?”

An indignant noise escaped him but his mother shushed him with a quick glare. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll see you at dinner. Let’s go, Hinata,” he ordered, elbowing the other boy in the side. Shōyō started, gave a quick bow to Tobio’s mother, and hurried after Tobio to the front door. Before his mother could add any other tasks to his list, he ushered the bare-footed alien out in front of him. It wasn’t as though Shōyō had an actual home to return to so he muttered, “Let’s go to the park,” and he received a small shrug in return. 

The world in daylight seemed to lighten Shōyō’s mood somewhat, to Tobio’s relief. That much palpable sadness induced a heavy anxiety in him. Sadness required comfort and the right things to be said, neither of which were skills in Tobio’s repertoire. The volleyball court was the only place he was self-confident. At least, it had been before last season. Sparing a glance at Shōyō, Tobio thought the alien looked more muted than he would have expected and felt the urge to indicate his willingness to listen. 

“What the hell was that about?” he asked. _Nailed it._

Shōyō looked up, confusion giving way to annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. 

Being lied to was never something which Tobio appreciated and his irritation spread across his face, but he attempted to clarify. “When my mom said that about your mom,” he said. “You almost started crying.” 

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did!” 

They bickered momentarily about whether or not there had been unshed tears in Shōyō’s eyes and what constituted ‘almost crying,’ until the alien fell quiet. Tobio smirked and was about to assume silence meant he’d been victorious when Shōyō said, “It’s just that… I think she’s in a lot of trouble back home and I don’t want her to be worrying about me. But she probably _is_ worried anyway and I can’t do anything to tell her I’m fine.” The redhead picked up a rock and flung it into the trees that lined the sidewalk. “I want to go home, but I can’t. I can’t do anything.” 

As he’d feared but plunged headfirst into regardless, Tobio needed to tread with emotional finesse he didn’t possess. His palms were sweaty at the thought. “What kind of trouble?” he mumbled. Shōyō was silent for such a long time that Tobio assumed he simply wasn’t going to answer. The shuffle of feet on warm pavement and the occasional skittering of pebbles kept them from total quiet, but the Earthling found himself wishing the other boy would speak. Part of him chided himself on becoming more involved, but the part of him that was curious won. He nudged the alien in the side and was pleased when Shōyō came to a stop and met his eyes. 

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” he asked. Tobio could not have rolled his eyes harder but agreed after the serious expression on the other boy’s face didn’t waver. “Some really bad guys invaded our planet,” he admitted slowly. “I think, maybe, we were losing the fight. Because my parents made me leave.”

Tobio blinked in surprise and said the first thing that came to him: “So this isn’t a vacation like you said.” 

Shōyō shook his head, sending his orange bangs swishing across his face. “I lied,” he confessed, as if he had committed an egregious sin. “I realized I could and thought that might be best. I didn’t plan to tell you. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or anything.” 

“Well, you already feel sorry for yourself so I’m not going to feel sorry for you too,” Tobio answered. Shōyō shot him a heated glare but the taller boy held his ground, his frown deepening. “You’re all, ‘I can’t do anything,’ and, ‘I wanna go home,’ instead of trying to do anything,” he argued. “You could just get in your spaceship and go… I don't know, rescue them or something.” His lack of tact became readily apparent when his sentiment saw the alien's face twisting further and further with anger.

“Oh?” Shōyō sneered. “I didn’t realize it was so easy! Yeah, let me just hop into my tiny, weaponless ship and fly back through an entire fleet of _Strik_ . Amazing idea.” He had two white-knuckled fists at his side and there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You don’t know anything, you, you _galactic hick_! I’m talking about an army that can destroy the population of a whole planet, if they really tried. I literally can’t do anything. I don’t even know why my parents told me to come here, I just-” He let out an anguished shout and pulled his hair. “Why is this body shaking!” 

Tobio watched the alien’s tirade with a growing sense of concern, despite the number of possibly well-deserved insults sprinkled within it. _One issue at a time,_ he reminded himself. “Sometimes that happens when you get really overwhelmed,” Tobio advised. He thought of his shaky legs, yesterday when they met, and earlier that year, during his permanent approach to the bench. “Sit down over here for a minute.” He pointed towards a nearby traffic barrier that separated their sidewalk from the residential road and herded the trembling boy to sit. 

“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” Shōyō ground out, his arms wrapped around his skinny frame. “At home, you share. You share everything almost all the time and it’s not so bad, even when it is bad. This is so much for one body. Do humans really have to deal with everything alone?” The tears that had been a threat before were tumbling down his cheeks. 

As Hinata reached up to wipe them, Tobio blinked in shock to see a soft illumination emanating from the alien’s palms. “Your hands are glowing!” he hissed, grabbing one of his wrists. 

It was like plunging into a hot bath at their point of contact. The dark-haired boy was flooded by the fury and paralyzing helplessness that poured into his chest like water into a mould, filling every crack. He could see it, too, when he shut his eyes: the _Strik_ that Shōyō had mentioned. They were looming figures clad in sleek black armor and mirrored helmets, multi-limbed and wielding guns as they marched into his- no, Shōyō’s home. Tobio’s focus was drawn to the transparent wings on their backs, kaleidoscopic in color and design. But even if he was fascinated by the sight, it was accompanied with a surge of hatred that wasn’t his, but was. He blinked, wide-eyed, and stared at Shōyō who was immobile in equal surprise until he broke their contact, jerking his softly glowing hand to his chest. Tobio stared at his still burning palm; it was trembling. “What was that?” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect that,” Shōyō apologized, twining his stilled fingers together in his lap. “It’s a Link. My thoughts to yours.” His brow knotted further than it was as he looked down into his hands: the light in them had faded. 

“So that was like, your memories?” Tobio pressed. He did recall now the same sensation being present when the alien had rummaged through his head. Warm, like melting. “How'd you do that?”

There was a clear sorrow in the alien’s amber eyes as he explained, “It’s… I don’t know. Back home, everyone is always Linked. It’s like if there was a giant cloud and everyone was always connected through it.”

“You’re saying you could always hear what everyone is thinking?” The thought, aside from being totally foreign to Tobio, was terrifying. How could anyone stand to have all of that going on inside them constantly?

But Shōyō nodded, a soft and sad smile on his lips. “Sort of, yeah. It’s more than thoughts. Like what just happened. Images and feelings. It’s everything. You share it all.” He cocked his head, looking at Tobio’s hand like it was a great puzzle. “I guess here I have to be touching someone and really thinking about putting it out there for it to work.” The smile faded as he directed his eyes back to his own hands. “I don’t get it. I can’t imagine keeping all of this to myself all the time. Will it be like this every time?”

Tobio grunted in response, an answer neither affirmative or negative. As expected, this conversation was out of his depth, both emotionally and logically. Why would anyone actually want to share everything with a bunch of other people? There was safety in being alone with oneself, to never allowing an external display of internal weakness. For Tobio, who had been alone more often than not, that overwhelming rush of emotion was often compartmentalized with practiced ease. “I think,” he ventured, “that you get used to it.”

Even if he believed it was true, the statement did not seem to offer the alien any comfort. Shōyō dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Tobio let the silence between them stretch for a few minutes, unsure of what to say to remedy whatever it was the redhead was feeling. Angry and scared, he guessed, thinking back on the vision he’d seen at the touch of his wrist. And lonely. He reflected for a moment on his last year; Tobio could understand being lonely. 

He sobered. “I don’t think you can go back. Those guys would kick your ass.” 

Amber eyes peeked out from beneath copper bangs and Shōyō muttered, “That’s what I told you.” Tobio expected his statement to spark some kind of annoyance or denial, both of which were easier to react to, but the alien seemed more relaxed than before. “I think, maybe, I was feeling a little sorry for myself, too,” Shōyō admitted. He raised his hands in front of him and gave his fingers an experimental wiggle. “At least I’m not shaking anymore. I thought maybe I’d messed something up when I was making adjustments. You're sure that's normal?” 

"If you're a giant baby, yeah."

The flicker of confusion on Shōyō's face soured. "Oh. That was a rude joke." 

Tobio fought a smirk as he made a noise of agreement. Shōyō rolled his eyes - at least there was one thing he’d already picked up, the human noted. From his peripheral he watched the alien flex his fingers a few more times. Somehow, Tobio had survived the treacherous waters of emotional turmoil and redirected them both back to lighter moods. He congratulated himself silently, even if the reality was that he had no idea how it had happened. He wasn’t going to give the redhead a chance to lapse back into gloom- for his own sake. “Hey,” he ventured. “Why were your hands glowing? I thought you made yourself human.” 

The redhead cast a derisive frown up at Tobio. “That’s my gift,” he said, as if explaining something obvious. “I can’t get rid of it by making my body a bit more human.”

Learning about Shōyō’s tragic history did not preclude a spark of irritation from igniting in the taller boy’s chest. “You keep saying these things like I should know what you’re talking about,” he snapped. “What the hell does that _mean_?” 

“You know, like something you’re born with. A gift,” Shōyō retorted. “I’m blessed by stars. That’s why it’s my name. Don’t you have a gift?” 

Tobio gave him a perplexed frown. “I… guess I’m good at volleyball?”

The alien gestured like Tobio had proved his point. “See? What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“There’s a big difference between being good at a sport and glowing,” the human said. “People don’t _glow._ ”

Shōyō sighed in exasperation. “Whatever. I’ll keep it in check.” 

Tobio directed his eyes skyward, searching for patience. A promise to ‘keep it in check’ did not explain _why_ this was occurring, but his tolerance was precariously frayed after exposure to so much new information. He glanced at the alien's dirty, unshod feet and decided he would focus on things he could handle. While knowing what he did now about Shōyō’s presence on Earth didn’t make the alien immune from being annoying, it did give root to the shred of responsibility Tobio felt for the wayward soul. Tobio may not have particularly enjoyed the company of people, but he wasn’t heartless. He shut his blue eyes with a resigned sigh, and muttered, "Look. Mom is probably gone back to work by now. We should go back to my house. I can at least give you some old clothes or something." By the time the reluctant boy had finished his proposition, the redhead's mood had elevated considerably and he flashed Tobio a brilliant grin. "You can't stay forever," Tobio threw in, seeing the other boy's expression. "You have to figure out something else."

"No problem," Shōyō assured, leaping to his feet. "I mean, I could always live on my ship. It's sort of near where we met." He squinted, thinking, then clapped. "We'll be neighbors!"

A preemptive regret welled in Tobio's stomach but he swallowed it down to tackle the first issue. "Whatever. Clothes, first. And probably a bath. You smell terrible." 

The affronted alien jumped up with a shout but his new friend was already several running steps ahead. 

* * *

Kageyama was scrolling through blogs about supposed alien encounters when Shōyō finally exited the bath with a happy sigh. It had been an adventure in its own right to detail the proper steps to maximum earthly cleanliness and another to further explain why he was absolutely not going to stay in there and show him. Tobio huffed at his computer screen which had, as of yet, offered no insight into the matter. At least the conversation had been devoid of talk of alien invaders and the palpable sadness that accompanied the topic. 

“I feel better,” Shōyō announced while he tramped into Tobio’s room with his head wrapped in a towel. “Baths are amazing. I wish I could’ve known about this sooner. And now I look like a proper human,” he added as he picked at the too-large shirt Tobio had given him. It hung from his thin frame as did the athletic shorts which were double knotted and still barely clung to his hips. Still, the alien appeared pleased at the outfit and flopped to the floor beside Tobio wearing a lazy smile. “What are you asking the computer?” he questioned. 

“If anyone else in the world has ever met an alien for real,” he muttered, turning the screen towards Shōyō. “It all just sounds crazy. I wouldn’t believe me if I were someone else.” 

The redhead wrinkled his nose at the blog title, _Unexplained Disappearances,_ which seemed to indicate an alien predilection for abducting people. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I don’t keep up with all the politics of visiting underdeveloped planets. Maybe there have been others but I don’t think they’d go around abducting humans. That doesn’t sound fun at all.” Tobio shrugged and continued his scroll, aware of large brown eyes peering with interest over his shoulder. “Well, I guess there could be other species that would think it’s fun to mess around,” Shōyō admitted.

Tobio frowned. “You guess? There’s aliens out there you don’t know about?”

Shōyō leaned in with a glare, and the taller boy was forced to scoot away from the invasion of his personal space. “Of course. Space literally goes on forever. Stupid.” 

“You tried to put a shirt on as pants, _stupid_ ,” Tobio retaliated. 

“You can’t call me stupid for not knowing that!” 

“It’s not like you’ve never worn clothes!”

At that, Shōyō floundered, mouth gaping for his next retort like a fish for water. He settled on a silent scowl that signified Tobio’s victory. Triumphant, the human boy returned to the computer screen. “So if aliens aren’t here to abduct people, why else would they come to Earth?” he queried.

The alien, now busied prodding and wiggling his short, pink toes, answered, “Probably sight-seeing. It seems really pretty here.” 

The statement caught Tobio off-guard and he considered that, perhaps, Shōyō was right. There were a number of beautiful things to behold on Earth, not that he had ever left Japan. Maybe when he was older, when he finally made it to the professional volleyball leagues, Tobio would get to see more of what Earth had to offer. With a gentle toss of his head, he cleared his thoughts. He would need to get through high school before that happened. “Want to go get something to eat?” the boy asked, though he had already snapped his laptop shut knowing the answer. 

“More curry?” Shōyō gasped. 

“Nah, we’ll go get stuff from the corner store,” Tobio clarified. He tossed a worn pair of slides from his closet at the alien and advised, with a smirk, “For your feet.” Shōyō shot him a peeved glance but slipped his feet in the shoes. They were too big, like everything else, but it was better than letting him run around barefoot. 

As the two walked, the alien peppered Tobio with questions, but this time they were about volleyball, which he’d glimpsed in Tobio’s memories at their first meeting. Unlike other topics, Tobio could talk endlessly about volleyball and did so during their venture towards the store near the high school.

“And that’s why setter is the best position,” he said as they walked through the corner store’s sliding doors. Shōyō had been surprisingly rapt throughout his entire lecture on the various roles on a volleyball team, and the puppy-eyed excitement the alien exuded doubled upon seeing shelves and shelves of food. 

“Earth is the best!” he squeaked as he rushed at a display of various packaged sweet breads. 

“Don’t act up in the store,” the shop clerk grumbled at them without sparing a glance from his serial comic magazine. Tobio frowned in response but directed his annoyance to a smack at the back of Shōyō’s head.

“I’ve only got 2000¥,” he informed the alien who had scooped several bags of melon bread into his arms. “Put all that shit back- OK, fine, bring _two_ .” Tobio dragged the alien about the store, snagging several chilled _onigiri_ from the back and tossing it all onto the counter up front. 

The cashier, a bored man sporting dyed blond hair pinned back by a hair band, gave an exaggerated sigh as he set down his book and looked at their pile. “That everything?” 

“Do you still have _nikuman_?” 

The clerk grunted. “It’s barely past breakfast, kid. What kind?”

“Pork. Four.” With a grumble the blond man ambled into the employee kitchen at the back of the store in response.

Shōyō looked at the clerk’s retreating back with a dismissive frown. “This human isn’t very talkative.” 

“I know. That’s why I like coming here,” Tobio said. 

The door chimed and both boys swiveled as a bespectacled man stumbled in, alighted his gaze on them and called, “Is there a blond guy working right now?” 

Raising an eyebrow, the taller of the two boys pointed over his shoulder as he answered, “He’s in the kitchen.” 

“Just my luck,” the newcomer groaned as he scratched out his annoyance on short brown hair. He seemed to take stock of the two boys and their pile of goods, then slumped. “I’ll come back later. Can you give him my card?” Without waiting for a reply, he thrust a dog-eared business car into Shōyō’s startled hands and bowed. “Thank you very much!” he called as he dashed back out into the street. 

Bewildered, the alien’s stare begged for clarification as he held the rectangle of card stock aloft like it was a delicate artifact. Tobio plucked it from his outstretched hands. “Oh. It just has his name and contact information on it, see? He’s a teacher at the school I’m going to.” 

A strange gleam came over Shōyō’s face. “Can I go with you to school?” 

Tobio gave an incredulous scoff. “No way. You missed the application and testing by a long time. You probably wouldn’t even know enough to get through it anyway.” 

Rather than rise to the challenge as expected, the alien went quiet. When Tobio glanced to the side, he could have shivered at the burning look of determination that contorted the redhead’s face. He frowned, but Shōyō blinked as their eyes connected, his face smoothing, and he offered a pleasant smile instead. “Whatever you say,” he conceded. 

If Tobio was suspicious he had no time to interrogate the shorter boy as the shopkeeper finally returned from the kitchen clutching a steaming paper bag. “You’re lucky the ol’ lady was already making some for the lunch crowd,” he groused. A few presses on the register and he added, “That’s 1250¥.” 

Tobio passed the business card along with his money. “Some guy said to give this to you.” 

Fingers well trained by the register pulled Tobio’s change while the distracted man read over the card. With a click of his tongue, he tossed it into the trash. “Here, 750¥,” he said, chucking the coins haphazardly in the tray. “Go get some real food next time.” 

A polite nod was Tobio’s reply whereas Shōyō only spared a calculating look at the trash can. However, with the promise of food in their immediate futures, Tobio pushed the alien out in front of him into the street. They shuffled onto a nearby bench and both boys let out a noise of appreciation when a waft of delicious steam hit them from the opened paper bag. “Here. You can have two,” the taller boy offered. Shōyō had been strangely quiet since their earlier interaction, but he seemed to revert to a form of pure excitement as he chomped into a steamed bun. 

“Holy stars, that’s hot!” he gasped around a mouthful of food. “Tobio! I think my tongue is burned!” 

“You have to let it cool off for a second,“ the disgruntled earthling snapped. “And quit calling me that!” 

The alien sniffled, but refrained from another bite into the piping hot bun. “You didn’t even warn me,” he sulked. 

“Forgot.”

They waited a few more moments in silence and, following Tobio’s lead, resumed eating once their food had cooled. “Why can’t I call you Tobio? That’s your name isn’t it?” Shōyō asked after he’d polished off the first bun. 

Tobio grunted as he bit into his second bun- it was too hot by far, but he wasn’t going to give HInata the satisfaction of knowing he’d made the same mistake. “That’s not how we do it here. You address people by last name,” he explained once he was sure he wasn’t going to cough up steamed dough. 

“Well, your mother called you Tobio,” Shōyō argued. 

“Yeah, she’s my mom. That’s OK.” Tobio, finished with his bun , unwrapped an _onigiri_ and let it cool his tongue. “You really only use first names if you’re family or friends or… something.” He lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Didn’t you learn the language when you barged into my head yesterday?”

Carefully unwrapping his own _onigiri_ , the alien frowned. “Yeah, but that doesn’t translate to anything for me. So there’s words I _know_ because you knew them, but I don’t really see the point in using them, or know how to exactly.” His cross mood lightened briefly as he appraised the rice ball. “This is really good, too. Can you give me an example? I want to blend in.” 

Tobio pursed his lips. “The guy who handed us his card in the store: the card said his name was Takeda Ittetsu, but it would be bad to call him Ittetsu. It said he was a teacher so we would call him _Takeda-sensei_ and if we didn’t know he was a teacher, it’d be _Takeda-san_ . Get it? When in doubt, call someone by their job title or last name, and then sometimes an honorific, or... I’ll show you on the computer what I’m talking about.” He pointed at himself. “So call me _Kageyama._ I’ve been calling you _Hinata_. Makes sense?” 

Even knowing the alien less than a day, the human anticipated the wrinkle in Shōyō’s nose at the instruction. “But we’re friends. I like _Tobio_ better,” he said. 

“We’re not friends,” Tobio replied automatically, earning a deeper frown from the now somber redhead. “No, I mean we aren’t _close_ friends or, or something,” he amended with a stammer. “People are going to look at you weird if you call me by first name and nothing else.” 

“How about _Tobio-kun_?”

The boy in question groaned. “Can’t you just do what I’m telling you?”

“Not when it doesn’t make sense to me,” Shōyō responded. “It’s so much work! Why do you humans have to make it so hard?” He held up the melon bread, having finished his second _onigiri._ “Can I try this now, _To-bi-o?”_

Tobio cursed and snatched up the remaining sweet bread. “Freaking idiot. Whatever, just don’t call other people by their first names. And don’t call me that in front of anyone!” 

Having gotten his way, the alien grinned and ripped into the packaging. “Fine. Can you show me how you play volleyball?”

* * *

The last week and a half of Tobio’s holiday before the school year began flew by in a new routine of meeting up with one red-headed alien. He’d scrounged up three more shirts too small for him to give to Shōyō, let him stay over to use his laptop when his mother was gone for work, and demonstrated the basics of volleyball. In return he had declined the offer to tour a spaceship and instead accepted several stories about alien life in Andromeda. Since he now wore a human face it was easy to forget that Shōyō was an alien, but sometimes the reminder caused a panicky, existential crisis to rear its head in Tobio’s thoughts. He didn’t want to press the issue by standing in an actual spaceship.

Even so, Tobio was becoming less nervous about his impending school year than he’d been before meeting Shōyō. Something about knowing the alien boy was trying to survive in an entirely foreign galaxy put the prospect of going to high school in perspective. 

The relief was short-lived, however, as the last days of vacation came and went. The little alien had neglected to knock on his door bright and early as had been custom all the days prior. The unease began to resurface in Tobio’s gut: about high school, volleyball, his future _senpai_ , about Hinata. Maybe he’d fallen off a cliff walking back to his ship, or been captured by government agents as the few movies he’d consumed in the last week often suggested. Tobio was surprised in himself for worrying; they’d only met a week ago. They hadn’t gotten along great, but Tobio had found at times it was still pleasant company. Throughout elementary and middle school, friendship was transient. He would be lying if he’d said he wasn’t disappointed to discover that the budding friendship with an alien had only proved the pattern. His sleep was fretful the night before the first day of school; he longed for the familiarity of the volleyball court. 

His poor sleep left him in a fog from the moment the opening ceremonies started to the time he finally sat in his homeroom. When the final bell chimed the end of formal classes, Tobio rushed to the bathroom to throw on his gym clothes, then sprinted towards the gym. He’d turned in his volleyball application earlier in the day, and now the anxiety in his chest demanded he make a good impression. If he could get there early, he could calm his nerves with a few practice serves before greeting his upperclassmen. Classes were always the same: material he would learn well enough to pass a test, and people who ignore him. But the gym was where he could make his whole high school career. 

The squeak of his shoes on the hardwood was a comforting song once he reached the open gym. Tobio took a deep breath, surveyed the pristine white net and painted lines that called out to him, and exhaled. Reverently, he unzipped his sport’s bag and retrieved the volleyball he’d brought with him, a reassuring presence he’d carried throughout the day. He spun it in hand, soaking in the familiar weight and grooves against his fingertips. Newly focused in a way that he thought lost, he looked to the opposite line, ran, and jumped. The ball rolled perfectly off of his fingers and reconnected a second later with a satisfying smack, and it sailed across the space to land in-bounds. 

The high schooler allowed himself one triumphant clench of his fist before retrieving it to repeat the ritual. It was on his third repetition that he heard the sound of fast approaching footsteps. His heart resumed a rapid pace and he smoothed his ruffled hair. This was his chance for a good first impression and a fresh start. He bounced the ball for luck and assumed a look of what he hoped was confidence. 

His expression fell as a familiar and exuberant body soared across the threshold with a drawn out cry of, "Tobio-!"

"What the fuck," he breathed, a second before Hinata Shōyō collided into him, clad in a giant smile and a Karasuno High School tracksuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really liked the idea of Kageyama carrying around a volleyball in his bag all day like a security blanket. 
> 
> If you'd like, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kittytoastnjam) and [Instagram](www.kittytoastnjam.tumblr.com/) @Kittytoastnjam. I do some drawing, mostly Haikyuu fanart at the moment.


	3. Gravitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, we're getting into the real canon divergence/parallel. I love the butterfly effect idea: if we change one or two things, how do things pan out for Kageyama? :)

From his vantage underneath the laughing alien, Tobio could see the evidence of exhaustion lining his sparkling amber eyes. With a grunt he threw the smaller boy off his chest and hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"I go to school here!" Shōyō exclaimed, throwing his arms wide so the school name was visible on his chest. 

"But _how?_ " Tobio insisted, desperation bleeding into his tone. "The tests, and you don't even have a birth certificate, or parents- are you messing around? _Did you steal someone's clothes?_ And you have shoes- what?"

The alien reached for the abandoned volleyball and threw it at the human's head, an act against which Tobio was too stunned to defend. The taller boy wondered if the sound it made against his forehead sounded as hollow as his head felt. 

"I wouldn't steal things from people," Shōyō chided. "It's actually a great story. I'll tell you after practice."

"After practice?" Tobio echoed. 

Shōyō grinned wide as ever. “I’m going to join the volleyball team and play with you!” 

There were a few more beats of silence before Tobio swelled with blinding anger. He grasped the alien’s head in his hands and squeezed, ignoring the smaller boy’s protests. “It’s not just a game!” he roared. “I’m here to win, not goof around and have fun! You don’t even know the rules that well! How do you expect to actually play?” 

The red head pulled futilely at Tobio’s wrists then settled for flailing his tiny fists against Tobio’s chest. “What’s the point of playing if it isn’t fun?” he shouted back. There were angry tears welling in his eyes and from the hands locked to his wrists the taller boy was blasted with a surge of reciprocated anger - and confusion. “I can learn the rules. I’m gonna be great!” Shōyō continued. “Trust me, Kageyama, I can help you win.” 

Tobio broke their contact but not before the earnest belief of Shōyō’s statement trickled into his own heart through their unwitting Link. “You think you can help me win?” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” He thought his words would have pissed the alien off even further, but they brought about the same fiery determination he’d glimpsed that day in the corner store. Shōyō gave him an almost feral grin, but Kageyama shushed him before he could continue their argument. 

“Do you think we got lucky getting Kageyama to sign up?” a voice rang from outside. 

“We’ll see,” another answered, closer this time. “There was that whole thing last year, so he’ll have to get along well.” 

Around the corner into the gym came three more boys, who seemed surprised to see two red-faced newcomers already present. “Good afternoon!” Tobio called with a bow and determination to salvage his first impression. Blindly he grasped at Shōyō and forced him into a bow as well. 

One of the upperclassmen chuckled at the display, the shortest of the three. He pushed his ashen hair from his face and offered them a soft smile. “No need for all that. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I don’t mind it,” the other grinned with a puff of his chest. “Makes me feel like a proper _senpai_.” He received a light smack on the back of his buzzed head from the remaining team member, a broad boy with the kind of strong and reassuring presence the other two lacked. 

“It is nice to meet you too. I’m Sawamura Daichi,” he said. “This is Sugawara Koushi and Tanaka Ryuunosuke,” he added, pointing to Gray-hair and Buzz-cut in turn. In his free hand were the applications the two boys had filled earlier in the day, and he waved them in the air. “We all know who you are, Kageyama, so you must be Hinata?” he asked with a nod at the alien. 

The red head gave a frantic nod and straightened to his full and unimpressive height. “I’m Shōyō and I’m going to help Tobio win!” he declared. Then he slapped his hands over his mouth as Tobio grabbed him with a hiss of, “You freaking moron!” 

“Glad to see you’re such good friends already,” Sugawara snickered. Both Sawamura and Tanaka sported such raised eyebrows that a hot flush spread onto Tobio’s cheeks in return. “Did you go to the same middle school? I know you played setter, Kageyama. What about Hinata?” 

“Y-yes, we did,” Kageyama mumbled, committing forever to the lie now that he’d agreed. “Hinata, uh, only wanted to join volleyball this year. He’s new.” 

Tanaka slumped with a groan that left no questions to his thoughts on the matter, but remarked anyway, “So you’re that short _and_ new? Daichi, there’s no way he can play!”

Shōyō squawked indignantly, stomped to the runaway ball and threw it at Tobio. “I may be short but I can jump! Just watch! Tob- uh, _Kageyama_ : set the ball for me! A little shorter than two of him,” he commanded, pointing at Daichi. 

Tobio hesitated, hearing the scoff from Tanaka and a hesitant mumble from Sugawara. He looked at the ball in hand, then to the expectant face of his alien friend. 

“Trust me,” he said. 

The anxiety Tobio felt about the day and his new chance and first impression tightened in his chest. He glanced at the upperclassmen and Sawamura motioned to the net as if to say, _Go ahead_ , so he lobbed the ball back to the redhead and directed, “If you want me to set, you’ll have to toss it up first, as high as you can.” As the two jogged onto the court, he added in a low voice, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” The idiot alien hadn’t said anything the week prior when Tobio had demonstrated how to play, only watched from the side with an awed grin. Where was all of this coming from?

Like a predator, Hinata smiled, which sent a shiver of anticipation running down Tobio’s spine. “Remember when I said gravity's like nothing here?” And before Tobio had time to process, the ball was arcing high in the air and his body was moving in response. A glance provided all the information he needed for the perfect timing of his toss. Acting on facts alone allowed him to ignore the voice inside him that was screaming for him to double-take because that couldn’t _possibly_ be right- how was Hinata already near the apex of a jump so _high_?

Suspended above the net, like he wasn't chained to the earth like the rest of them, Shōyō locked eyes with Tobio, as if sensing his misgivings. "I'm here!" he shouted, and any vestiges of doubt Tobio clung to vanished. The ball landed on his fingertips and with a silent prayer he shot it forward, straight into Hinata’s open palm. As he landed on his feet, the setter whipped around in time to see the ball slam into the opposing side of the court. 

For a moment, the only noise was the ball settling into a far corner of the gym. Tobio considered his open palm, his chest heaving though he'd hardly exerted himself. How long had it been since a spiker was there for his set? Amazed, he turned to Shōyō, who was flexing his own hand, bright red even from a distance. Amber eyes met blue ones a second before Hinata whooped excitedly, springing into the air again. 

“I told you!” Shōyō sang, pointing haughtily at the three stunned upperclassmen. 

“What was that!” Sugawara screeched finally as he grabbed Sawamura by the arm and shook. “Daichi, _did you see that?”_

The seemingly unflappable older boy cleared his throat, but his voice sounded strained as he said, “Yeah I saw it. Terrible spiking form, definitely need-”

“How can you act like that wasn’t the fastest attack you’ve ever seen in your life!” Tanaka shouted, shaking Daichi by the other arm. “What’s wrong with all of you!” He jabbed a finger back at Shōyō and Tobio, the former of which cowered at the aggression. “You two are a couple of freaks!” Tobio stiffened at the remark, worried that his first impression had somehow gone south. However, in the next moment, Tanaka bounded at them and locked each of their heads in the crook of an arm as he gleefully jabbered, “This year is gonna be awesome! We’re gonna be so good! Freaky little _kouhai;_ no one’s gonna know what hit ‘em!”

From his awkward slouch stuck in Tanaka’s headlock, Tobio managed a glance at Shōyō, who looked as stunned as he felt. Their eyes met, though, and shock was replaced by a smug grin which annoyed Tobio in an instant. 

“Let the poor boys go, Ryū,” Sugawara scolded, rushing to join them on the court. Once they were standing straight, he clapped Tobio on the shoulder which nearly sent him sprawling again. “That was an amazing set! I’m the starting setter for the team, but I can tell you’re insanely good! It was like you put the ball exactly where it needed to be.” 

“Thanks,” the dark-haired boy mumbled. 

"You really haven't played together before?" Daichi asked. With his arms crossed against his chest, the upperclassman was such an intimidating presence that Kageyama was sure he wouldn't have been able to lie to him if he wanted to.

Instead, he jabbed his thumb at Hinata, who was preening under Tanaka's continued praise, and said, "He’s _definitely_ never played before." Shōyō wasn't occupied enough, though; he kicked Tobio in the back of the leg. "Oh, come on," he grumbled, rounding on the redhead. "That was luck on your part and skill on mine."

The alien's eyes widened, disbelieving, and behind him Tanaka was an irritated mirror of the short boy, though more intimidating by far. "You don't have to be mean,” Shōyō growled. “I can do this! You saw-" 

"There's way more to volleyball than jumping high," he countered. "I bet you wouldn't be able to receive or serve if your life depended on it. _You've never played._ " 

“Should I go get the ball and we can find out?” 

“Yeah, go ahead!” 

"There's no need to argue," Sugawara interjected with his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture of peace. "Even if he's never played it doesn't necessarily mean he can't be on the team. We’ll see how the first week goes, yeah?"

Tobio opened his mouth to argue, then caught the insecure expression painted on Shōyō’s face. He’d been in the gym less than thirty minutes total and already he had already reverted to the domineering act that had seen him benched last year. What was he thinking, about to argue with a third-year, too? He frowned at his feet and looked up at Sugawara from behind his black fringe. “What does it take to be on the team?”

The ashen-haired boy looked to Sawamura, who pointedly turned an unimpressed stare to Kageyama, and answered, “ _Teamwork_ , for starters. If you both want to be on the team, you have to work together. Volleyball is a game with six players, not one.” Tobio flushed out of embarrassment but nodded. “We usually have the first-years play each other to get a feel for where you’re at anyway,” Daichi continued. “We have two other first-years who applied that’ll join later in the week. So this Saturday, we’ll have a three-on-three match to gauge your skills.”

“Hey, short-stuff, that means you have five days to learn how to play,” Tanaka teased, prodding Hinata in the back. 

“We’ll do it,” Shōyō declared. He glared at Tobio which probably meant as a silent dare to argue, but the taller boy just nodded again in agreement. 

“Ah, hello volleyball club,” a voice called from the door. “Is everything well Captain?”

Sawamura turned and bowed. “Yes Mr. Vice-Principal.” 

“Ah! You’re the captain?” Shōyō cried. Tobio elbowed him in the side, even if he hadn’t known that himself. 

“Good. Make sure there’s no problems this year,” the dour vice-principal drawled. “Especially once the little rowdy one comes back. Otherwise we might have to give this gym to one of the other sport’s teams.” 

“Of course, sir. Everyone will behave this year,” he assured, with a short look at the two first-years. It was enough for the vice-principal who bid them a good day before shuffling along. The captain sighed, brushing a hand through the back of his cropped hair. “Sheesh. I can’t imagine how that would’ve gone if he’d come in two minutes sooner.”

Tanaka grinned and did an impression of the VP that involved his hands over his head in imitation of the man’s obvious hairpiece and adopted a gloomy frown. “Sawamura,” he intoned. “Is that arguing I hear? Hold my toupee while I get serious.”

Sugawara howled with laughter and shoved Tanaka, though a dark look came over Daichi’s face as if he could envision such an occurrence. With arms akimbo, he turned back to Kageyama and HInata, gave them an appraising once-over then an affirming nod. “Alright. Why don’t you two join practice today? Everyone still has some time before it starts. We can show you the club room and where all the supplies are and then see about having you pair up with an upperclassmen and run through some basic drills. Sound good?” 

Even if the afternoon had not begun the way he had imagined, Tobio couldn’t resist the grin that crossed his face at the prospect of finally, _finally_ , getting to play again. 

* * *

“Can you admit that you bit off more than you can chew?”

The question was directed at a certain redhead who was massaging his angry red forearms. From experience, Tobio knew tomorrow the boy’s skin would be more bruise than not. Rather than answer, Shōyō only intensified his frown at Tobio, who was stretching beside him. The rest of the small team were cooling down as well, and in a few moments, Sawamura would be ending their practice. 

Tobio, after a long draw at his water bottle, continued, “You can always back out.” 

“Why are you so against me joining volleyball?” the redhead snapped. 

“Why are you so set on playing?” Tobio shot back. “You didn’t even know it existed a few days ago.” To his surprise, the alien clamped his mouth shut and rubbed at his cheeks which were turning pinker by the moment. Luckily for Shōyō, they were interrupted from further conversation- or potential glowing incidents- by Sawamura approaching them. 

“Good job out there today, guys,” he congratulated. “Kageyama, the improvements you’ve made since middle school are incredible. I mean, we only watched you play once but even then you could tell how skilled you are. I think we’re really lucky to have you.” 

“And me?” Shōyō pressed with a hopeful grin. 

Their captain hesitated, but presented an encouraging smile. “Honestly, you can tell you’ve never played before. But-” he added quickly, seeing the boy’s face crumple, “I’ve never seen anyone with reflexes like yours. I think if you do practice hard, you could be really good.” 

The fire restarted in Shōyō’s eyes and he grabbed an unsuspecting Tobio by the arm. “Don’t worry, Kageyama’s gonna help me practice,” he promised. 

“I’m doing what now?” Tobio retorted, pulling his arm back to his body. 

The redhead sent him a pleading, almost puppy-like look. “You’d get some extra practice too,” he said.

“Don’t force Kageyama to do stuff he doesn’t want to,” Daichi gently scolded. “Today especially, you both need rest. In fact, you look exhausted, Hinata.” 

“It's... I’ll do it,” Tobio responded. It earned him an ecstatic smile from the energetic redhead and an exasperated head shake from the captain. 

“If that’s what you want to do, then go for it,” Sawamura conceded with a shrug. A serious frown overtook him the next moment, which sent Tobio shrinking back. He could see his alien friend, from the corner of his eye, go ramrod stiff at the commanding expression. “Not today, though. Today you two will help clean up the gym and then go home and get some rest. There’s morning practice from 7:00 to 8:30, so you’ll be back soon enough.” 

Both boys nodded their assent then followed as Daichi led them through their cleaning procedure. Already, the atmosphere was more relaxed than what Tobio had experienced in middle school. The upperclassmen at Kitagawa Daiichi had forced adherence to the typical relationship of _senpai_ and _kouhai,_ wherein all the underclassmen were expected to display blind respect towards their seniors, whether deserving or not _._ He couldn’t recall a time where someone like _Oikawa_ had offered a helpful word or caring instruction. 

As they cleaned up the gym alongside the second and third year students who kept drawing them into their playful banter, Tobio felt a sudden sense of relief that he’d come to Karasuno. A feeling that, perhaps, things would be OK. Even if one of his teammates, was a stupid alien. 

* * *

Shōyō’s demand that they walk at least part of the way home together was one to which Tobio relented without much fight. If the redhead was going to live on his ship then it was, technically, on the way. However, as they shuffled along the street in the setting sun, the human was annoyed to find that his tiny tagalong was quiet. With more aggression than he intended, he elbowed Shōyō in the side, which sent the other boy staggering. 

“What was that for?” the redhead demanded once he’d straightened. 

“You have some explaining to do,” Tobio nagged. “How did you get into school?” 

At that, the alien brightened. “Oh, yeah! So remember when we were at that store and the guy with glasses came in and you said he was a teacher?”

The taller boy had a sudden grasp of where the conversation was headed. “You didn’t,” he said. 

“Yeah, I went back and got the card and called him from the store,” Shōyō affirmed with a satisfied grin. “He was super nice. I told him that I’d just gotten here but I _really_ wanted to go to school.” 

Tobio was mortified at the image of Shōyō calling a stranger with such a personal request. It was like the alien had no fear of anything. Or, he realized, making a phone call was next to nothing compared to what he’d been through. Still, if Shōyō wanted to blend in, he was taking an odd approach. “What did you say exactly?” he grimaced. 

Shōyō, on the other hand, had a skip in his step as he continued his recount. “Well, I said that I was from another country and my parents were dead and my guardian had sent me to live with a friend here.”

“What the hell, Hinata?” Tobio cried. “How did you come up- no, nevermind. Oh my god, am I the friend?”

“I might have said you’re the friend,” Shōyō said with a sheepish smile. “I needed a residence to put on the applications. He said-” the redhead stopped to preemptively laugh at his coming joke- “that I’m pretty much an illegal _alien._ Can you imagine how much that scared me for a second? I thought he knew somehow! Anyway, it means there’s a lot of paperwork, but it’s alright since I’m fifteen.”

Momentarily distracted, Tobio squinted at the shorter boy. “You’re fifteen?”

Shōyō shrugged. “I don’t know. I made up a birthday that would match your age. It’s June 21st.” Tobio nodded as if this were normal, despite the light-headed spin that was overtaking his brain. There was no time to ground himself either, as Shōyō continued, “So then the last couple of days I had to do the entrance exam and interviews and school paperwork, plus finish sending all of the other paperwork, like for the documents and stuff. Everything took ages, so that’s why I couldn’t come over. I’ll also have you know that I did fine on the exam. The Japanese was the hardest.” He leveled a superior smile at Tobio as he gloated, “Since I got all I know about that from you, I think you talk awfully high and mighty for someone with barely passable knowledge.” 

“I’m going to kill you, you freaking dumbass,” Tobio hissed, making a mad swipe at Shōyō, who dodged with a satisfied giggle. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered when he came away empty-handed. “Is this going to come back on my mom somehow? Did you even think about that when you were putting our address on everything?” 

The redhead opened his mouth, then shut it with a frown. “I… don’t know,” he muttered.

A frustrated groan escaped Tobio and fled into the darkening sky. “You shouldn’t have done all that without telling me!” he chastised. “What if my mom gets in trouble? Or me, or Takeda? “

“I don’t think he would’ve helped me with everything if he thought there would be trouble,” Shōyō mumbled, his frown twisting further in distress. “I’m sure it’ll be OK.” 

“It better be,” Tobio snapped. He ran an anxious hand through his sweaty hair while he did his best to calm his swirling thoughts. Would he have to be on watch for the mail, now? He didn’t want to risk his mother finding out or becoming involved in a situation that was becoming more complex by the minute. “Most people wouldn’t ever go through all this trouble to go to school,” he huffed. 

At his side, the alien shrugged and kicked a rock for good measure, sending it skittering down the road. “What else am I supposed to do? Sit around all day? I figure if I’m stuck here forever, I might as well make the most of it.”  
  
“How do you stay so positive all the time?” Tobio blurted. It wasn’t as if Tobio wasn’t just as, if not more, determined when there was something he cared about on the line. Volleyball, he thought, was a prime example of an area where he would never stop striving, no matter what happened. However, when he thought of getting benched, his motivation to do better came from a place of anger and anxiety. What kind of positive motivation could Shōyō possibly be deriving this attitude from? For _school_ of all things?

He wouldn’t be getting any answer either, since the redhead shrugged his response. “Guess I’ve always been like this,” he said. 

They walked along the sidewalk in silence after that, quietly dodging other pedestrians and taking in the sounds of the evening. Tobio wasn’t sure where his head was anymore. When he started to adjust to life with an alien acquaintance, Hinata said or did something to unbalance him. Worse still was the internet had proved there was no metric against which he could measure his course of action, no hand guide, not even a speculative bullet-point list about what to do when an alien entered your life and tried to befriend you. 

When they turned the corner for Kageyama’s street, Shōyō piped up, voice small and rushed, “I thought you would be happy about it.” 

“Huh?” The sudden admission snapped Tobio from his thoughts, but it didn’t offer any clarification.

The alien refused to look up from the ground where his feet- clad in a pair of Tobio’s socks and the same worn sandals- shuffled along with small, nervous steps. But he answered, “If I joined volleyball, I thought you’d be happy that I wanted to play with you.” 

Such a sudden confession stopped Tobio in his tracks, and he watched Hinata come to a halt a few steps later, fiddling with his shirt hem. “Why?” he asked. 

There was a pink hue overtaking the alien’s cheeks as he said, “Well, it’s just… Don’t be mad, OK? That first day, when I was going through your memories, there was a lot of volleyball. But so much of it was sad and lonely. I didn’t get it then, and I guess I still don’t really know why you felt like that, but I thought maybe if you had a friend to play with, you’d be happier.” He peered up at the taller boy through copper lashes, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. “You’ve already given me so much more than I could ever thank you for, so I thought this could be how I repaid you. It’s stupid, I get it now. I’ll quit tomorrow so you don’ t have to worry about it.”

Tobio found that he, too, could not seem to bring his eyes from the ground. He knew his face was pulled into a tight frown, but it belied the strange feeling in his chest. It wasn't quite happy, but neither was it angry. There was a touch of embarrassment at the casual reference to one of the worst periods of his life, but overall he was warm and relieved. _Grateful,_ he realized _._ Tobio was grateful to know the reason the red headed weirdo had for taking up volleyball. They weren't exactly friends, or, maybe they were now. It had been a long time since he could call someone a friend, but even he could recognize the selfless good intention of Shōyō's action. The awkward boy berated himself for being so angry in the gym once more. How would he ever change when that was his first reaction?

"Kage… _Tobio?_ " Shōyō whispered, reminding Tobio that he'd been quiet for a touch too long. 

"Don't quit," he murmured. "If you like it, you shouldn't quit."

Shōyō cocked his head, his red hair a halo in the dying light. A smile as soft as the sunset glow came across his face. "Are you sure? I think maybe I wasn't considerate enough of how seriously you take volleyball." 

Tobio clicked his tongue, accompanied by crossed arms. "I said it was fine, dumbass. If you want to play, then play," he grumbled.

"Then you can't take it back now," the redhead informed, his smile becoming a full fledged grin. "Watch, I'm going to get so good that I'll even beat you!" 

"Don't get cocky for no reason! You're still a scrub!" 

"I don't know what that means but no I'm not!" 

An argument that escalated in noise ensued until they were at Tobio’s doorstep. The lights were off inside, despite the hour. Distracted, the taller boy disconnected from their petty squabble until brought back when Shōyō poked his side. He jerked away with a small yelp, fumbling his keys. “Asshole,” he spluttered. 

Shōyō narrowed his eyes, looking suspiciously at his friend who was struggling with the lock. “What was that noise?”

“Do you want to come in, or what?” Tobio grunted instead of answering. 

The alien looked a second away from arguing, but shrugged and bounded inside. “Thanks for having me! Can I borrow one of your shirts?” 

“Go ahead,” Tobio responded distractedly. He had busied himself checking messages on his phone since they entered and found what he expected: 

_19:03_

_From: Mom_

_Sorry Tobio, I’ll be late today._

_19:04_

_From: Mom_

_I had my assistant come by earlier and put some food in the fridge._

He sent a short reply, snapped his cell phone shut, then locked the door behind them. This occurrence was not extraordinary, but it was, on occasion, disappointing. Days that marked milestones, like the first day at a new school, he had hoped would be different. That perhaps it would be enough a reason for one of his parents to be home with a warm meal and questions about his day. These thoughts he quashed as soon as they emerged. It was ungrateful to make more demands of parents who worked hard to provide for him. 

Instead of dwelling, he opened the fridge to see what his mother’s assistant had chosen this time. There were a variety of _bento_ stacked neatly inside, along with two containers of fried chicken and several sports drinks. She knew him well at this point, he had to admit. He pulled enough for himself and Hinata and was ready to eat by the time the other boy reemerged. 

“That’s my shirt,” Tobio stated, vaguely remembering some question about a shirt. 

The answer was obvious as the shirt in question hung from the smaller boy like a blanket with the sleeves to his elbows and hem to mid-thigh. “Yeah, it is,” he confessed unnecessarily. “I’ve been wearing the same clothes for a week and half now, except for the uniform the school gave me. Everything smells and I haven’t figured out where to wash it all yet.” 

The dark-haired boy chewed thoughtfully, eyebrows creasing in response. He hadn’t considered what it meant for the alien to possess a handful of clothes. Now that the idiot had all but declared Tobio’s family responsible for him, Tobio concluded with reluctance that he should probably rise to the challenge. It’s not like Hinata had asked to be stranded on Earth with no possessions, he reminded himself. “Go get your nasty clothes and I’ll show you how to use the washer,” he ordered, then amended, “After you eat, though. You probably didn’t eat lunch, did you?” 

Shōyō winced, a hand on his stomach. “I didn’t know you’re supposed to bring food,” he said, finally collapsing into his seat as if granted permission by Tobio’s response. After that, there was no room for words as he scarfed down the meal. They may have started eating at the same time, but Shōyō finished in a flash and leapt ever-energetic to his feet. “I’ll go get my stuff!” he declared. “Wait up for me, OK?”

“Whatever,” Kageyama shouted. The front door slammed shut a moment later and once more, it was quiet. It was as much a relief as it was undesired. At times Shōyō's energy was exhausting to the introverted Tobio, but it was addicting in its own way. He had been called a number of things by classmates and teammates alike: boring, difficult, annoying, a tyrant. He could count on one hand the number of friends he'd had from the age of 4 until now, and all had fallen out of touch. At least one person, even if it proved temporary, wanted to be around him, and it drew in Tobio even when he was drained.

 _Maybe it was the positivity_ , Tobio mused as he showered off the grime from the first day, the first practice. During their introductory practice, all their second and third year teammates had taken to Shōyō: Shōyō, who could barely manage a receive at the slowest pace; Shōyō, who couldn't manage a single serve over the net. He sucked. Tremendously. But the alien only plastered on another grin and let the upperclassmen offer their guidance. 

It wasn't an act, either. A week and some of knowing the earnest redhead showed Tobio undoubtedly that Shōyō was incapable of that level of manipulation. If Tobio thought he himself could replicate that kind of whole-hearted, honest positivity, that innate charisma, he wouldn't bear the hint of jealousy that he did. 

_Positivity?_ he questioned his reflection in the foggy mirror post-shower. _Positivity_ , his reflection affirmed. He smiled at himself, then let it slide when it looked as forced as it felt. Well, he could try to cultivate a better attitude tomorrow without smiling at anyone. He would have to if he wanted to connect with his new team. 

Satisfied that his course was set, Tobio abandoned any pretense of school work in favor of the internet. Since meeting Hinata, the dark-haired boy had done more non-volleyball related research than in the rest of his life combined, he was sure. While earlier in the week he'd already combed through page after page on Google, there was a Japanese blog he'd bookmarked which seemed promising. The author was well-spoken and smart, and though it was mostly a creative space for them to speculate about alien life, the author provided the scientific information they'd found that supported their claims. _Whoever this was should've been the one to meet Hinata,_ Tobio thought. 

He noted a lack of new posts, but Tobio hesitated to navigate away from the page. The author’s contact page provided an email address for “anyone wishing to have a serious discussion about space and aliens.” Chewing his lip, the boy clicked the link, but stared at the blank window that awaited without typing. Perhaps he should ask Hinata first? It was about him, after all. Then again, he reasoned, he didn’t plan to tell the internet stranger everything that was going on in their situation. All Tobio needed was a little guidance; even a few ideas on how to cope with the situation would help him. 

Ah, there was a word for this but it wasn’t coming to him: he would ask the blogger what they’d do if it were happening to them, and mention that it wasn't true. That would get the point across and Shōyō wouldn’t have to worry about someone actually knowing his secret. This would work, he decided, and with a crack of his knuckles he started typing. 

* * *

The email was still a draft by the time Hinata returned, late as it was, and Tobio closed his internet windows in a panic. 

“I’m finally back,” the alien hollered from the front door. “Tobio, I shouldn’t have ran so fast. My stomach hurt _so_ bad.” 

“Idiot,” Kageyama muttered, then yelling back he added, “I’ll be right down.” He rushed to gather his own laundry and flew downstairs where Shōyō’s eyes peaked over a pile of offensive-smelling clothes. “Listen up because I’ll only tell you how to do this once. You’re on your own after that,“Tobio warned before walking the alien through the use of the clothes washer. 

To his credit, Shōyō was intent on the instructions Tobio provided and nodded his solemn oath that he would remember, moments before yanking his previously clean shirt overhead and throwing it in. There should have been nothing strange about the act to Tobio considering he’d spent the last three middle school years having to change in front of his volleyball team. In fact, it was an efficient idea that he was disappointed in himself for not thinking of. 

However, Tobio was curious in a way that had not presented any time before. Shōyō looked normal as far as he could tell, for being an alien who had to craft a human-looking body from internet knowledge. Across his thin shoulders and back, the little muscles there rippled as he continued to load the washing machine. Copper hair curled behind his ears and encroached down a slender neck, defying gravity with its waves and looking to Tobio to be quite soft. The smaller boy must have felt the innate prickle that accompanies an intense stare, though, because he abruptly straightened and whipped around to meet Tobio’s dark blue gaze. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked. “Is there something on my back? Oh, no, did I mess something up?” 

Blinking, the human shook his head to ease the worry apparent on Shōyō’s face. “It looks soft,” he frowned by way of explanation. 

After a flicker of confusion, the alien patted his curls to indicate his understanding. “Oh. Yeah, I guess it is. Do you want to touch it?” he asked, as if it were the most natural question to follow and not the direct cause of an angry red flush that bloomed on Tobio’s cheeks. 

“No, dumbass,” he huffed as he scooped up the remaining clothes from the floor and shoved them into the machine with unnecessary force. 

“Suit yourself,” the redhead shrugged as he started the machine, slowly and under Tobio’s watchful but embarrassed gaze. “Hey, can I use your shower? It’s so much better than the one on my ship. And then I want to hear about your day at school so I can compare it to mine!” 

“Then you might as well just stay the night,” Tobio muttered generously. “It’s already past ten.” Shōyō grinned brightly then skipped to the stairs ahead of him, the pale expanse of his back drawing the taller boy’s attention. 

No, there was nothing discernibly different about how Shōyō looked, but Tobio couldn’t stop searching anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a special exam for transfer and immigrant students!


	4. Trajectory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwah, I think this chapter and the next are a bit messy. With everything going on in the US and going back to work/no longer teleworking, I have less spare time or I'm in the wrong headspace for fluff.

“That’s the king of the court for you,” Tsukishima Kei sneered after Hinata whiffed another set. 

The notorious moniker Tobio hadn’t heard in so long ripped him open in an unexpected way. Anger, white-hot and consuming, tore from his lips as he hissed, “Don’t call me that.” He was aware of the rise in tension from the other club members, but most of all he could feel the weight of Hinata’s eyes on the back of his head. 

Tsukishima, the tall, blond first year on the other side of the net, offered a smirk and a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, so it’s true that it pisses you off to hear that. I guess I was so surprised to see you trying that ridiculous set that it just slipped out.” 

Tobio grit his teeth and said nothing. One good week, he realized, did not erase the things he had said and done, and he was stupid to believe otherwise. Maybe he wasn’t yelling at Hinata and Tanaka yet, but how long did he really think it would be before he did? Behind him, Tanaka ranted at the blond antagonist about being a jerk and how they’d recover, but Tobio wasn’t so sure. With Tanaka he could score points but HInata was a different story. Other than above average athleticism afforded to him by dense muscle and lighter gravity, the alien’s actual volleyball skills were so low it was frustrating. 

“Kageyama,” Sugawara called. He waved Tobio to the sideline and the boy went, ignoring the fierce, weighted stare of Shōyō tracking him across the court. “Listen,” the upperclassman whispered, throwing an arm around Tobio’s shoulders. “You know Hinata isn't great, but you know what he’s good at, too. Remember that first day in the gym? Where y’all showed off that quick and it went perfectly? What was different?” 

_ Trust me, I’m here. _ Tobio recalled the words with a frown and shook his head, which Sugawara took as an answer to his question. “I mean, you’re the best setter I’ve ever seen,” the ashen-haired boy continued. “Surely you can come up with something to make use of how fast he is.” 

_ Trust me, I’m here _ . It clicked. 

“Hinata,” Tobio said as he jogged back to his side of the court and huddled with the shorter boy and their riled up  _ senpai _ . “I need you to run as fast as you can to where no one is blocking you. If someone’s there, move. Jump as high as you can and I’ll get the ball to you. All you have to do is trust me.” 

It was a fitting plan for a duo as ludicrous as a prodigy king and an alien volleyballer, and only Hinata would receive those instructions with nothing more than fervent agreement. Tobio could see the redhead vibrating with frenetic energy as the other first year, Yamaguchi Tadashi, served. In slow motion, Tobio glimpsed Shōyō’s lead up run, the perfect, high receive from Tanaka falling towards his hands. Shōyō didn’t have to say anything; Tobio knew. He set the ball, hard, fast, and straight into the smaller boy’s palm.

The look on Tsukishima’s face when the ball whizzed past him was worth any taunt of “King.” 

When their game concluded, Tobio watched Hinata with the same amusement of a pet owner watching their dog as the small player pranced around trying to make reluctant friends with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi following the odd duo’s victory. The wound reopened by the tallest first year had yet to settle completely after half a match of relentless taunting, so Tobio hung back like an awkward shadow until Captain Daichi and their team manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, approached them. 

“Come on, guys. This will make your welcome to the club official,” Sawamura grinned, opening the box Shimizu had dropped behind him. Tobio could barely suppress the smile that threatened his face as they held aloft a black club jacket. He took the one given him gingerly in hand, rubbing a hand across the logo on the back before shuffling it on. During the game, he’d almost been lost to the reminder of his past, the assertion by another that he hadn’t changed. Maybe the difference wasn’t as drastic as he’d liked: he had found himself snapping at Hinata more than once, and demanded the boy use every scrap of skill he possessed. 

The difference was, he realized as the enthusiastic alien twirled around with his own jacket, that Hinata had tried each demand with absolute trust. As if knowing what Tobio was thinking, Shōyō whirled again and caught his eye, a happy smile growing even wider across his face. The redhead bounded over and dragged the reticent setter across the gym to join him and Tanaka in a silly pose, to which Tobio complied. While the name ‘King’ still burned in his mind, there was hope there, too. 

“Hey, Hinata. Let’s practice that quick again, while we’ve still got a feel for it,” he ordered, and was rewarded with another determined grin. Though before the two could do so, the fidgety, bespectacled man from the convenience store burst through the gym doors. 

“Ah! Takeda-san!” Hinata cheered, changing course abruptly to give the teacher an enthusiastic greeting. 

The brown-haired teacher greeted him in turn with a friendly ruffle of his orange hair. “Oh, Hinata-kun! How is the volleyball club treating you?”

“It’s amazing,” the redhead replied. “Everyone is so cool and these shoes are great!”

Tobio found several sets of inquisitive eyes upon him, at which his perpetual frown deepened. He shrugged. 

“Hey, guys! I'm Takeda, your faculty club advisor,” Takeda introduced before Tobio could provide the team with information he didn’t have. “Guess what? I got a practice match lined up for you!” Any attempts to practice after that announcement was lost to the ensuing chaos. 

Tobio thought that the smaller boy had been unaware of what transpired on the court earlier that day, which was fine with him as their walk home contained only volleyball related conversation. However, in the midst of the experienced player attempting to describe what Shōyō needed to change (with only moderate levels of irritation in his voice), Shōyō went quiet during their argument. 

"What's with the ‘king of the court’ stuff Tsukishima was talking about?" he asked abruptly.

Tobio had been about to ask if the other boy's silence meant he understood what Tobio meant when he said he needed to get his feet up before a receive, but he grit his teeth instead. "It's just a stupid nickname." 

Unsurprisingly, that answer did not appease his stubborn alien friend. "Why don't you like it, though? Shōyō pressed. "I think it sounds awesome. King! Uwah, like you’re so good that you’re the king of volleyball!"

"It isn't meant to be good." 

"But-" 

"Shut up, Hinata. I don't want to talk about it."

Emitting a soft huff, the redhead crossed his arms but pushed the issue no more. Tobio would have been content if their walk continued in silence, but the alien began to fill the emptiness with a recap of their first week in school. With more venom than intended, Tobio snapped, "What part of shut up don't you get?"

He regretted it immediately, but the damage was done in the way Shōyō's face first fell, then furrowed. "You're such a jerk sometimes! I just wanted to take your mind off it."

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me," the snappish boy argued. 

"Trust me, I don't," Shōyō scoffed. "This is called trying to be a good friend and cheering you up."

Tobio stopped himself a second before admitting angrily that he wouldn't know what good friendship looks like. Was that what friends did? It could certainly be annoying, if so. "Well, you don't have to talk every second of every day," he muttered.

Cheeks puffed, the redhead pouted, "But it's always so quiet." In accordance with Tobio's demands, though, he fell silent. 

The alien's claim instilled a sense of restlessness in the taller boy, and he fixated on it to the soft tune of their shuffling feet. Any time Hinata was around was time filled with loud noise and excited voices, not only from his own mouth but those around him. It seemed in his personality to draw the most out of people. He coaxed conversation from even the most reticent upperclassmen, like Ennoshita, and riled rambunctious ones like Tanaka. There was no way the idiot could claim that it was too quiet, not when he was constantly surrounded- 

_ Oh, _ he realized. Hinata was used to being  _ literally _ surrounded by never-ending chatter. What Kageyama considered the maximum amount of human interaction a day was just a fraction of what the thought-sharing alien was used to. It didn't negate that too much overwhelmed Tobio, but he was going to have to figure out a balance. With a face contorted in a thoughtful grimace, he parted ways with the subdued redhead for the night. 

When Tobio was satisfied that he was alone in the empty house, he popped open his laptop and pulled up his email draft to the alien blogger. If there was anyone who was going to provide ideas and guidance, it was  _ SetInSpace94.  _

_ SetInSpace94,  _

_ I read your blog and I know you are good at thinking of different possibilities when it comes to aliens. I wanted to ask what you would do if you met a real alien. This is a totally made up situation but it's important that you answer like it's real. Also, the alien is your age and can look normal and wants to go to high school. And sometimes he can read your mind and make you read his. But he's not here to abduct anyone like people on the internet are always saying aliens are trying to do. Again, this is just pretend. So, what would you do? Do you be friends or are you supposed to tell someone, or something? I mean, the alien seems nice enough and just wants to try and live a normal life because some bad guys took over his planet. So yeah if you could reply that’d be nice. Thanks.  _

As if he hadn’t read it a hundred times already, Tobio reread the email once more. He thought it seemed pretty clear that this wasn’t real, so there was no reason for the blogger to think otherwise, right? Yes, this would be fine. Before he lost confidence, the boy pressed send and closed his computer.

* * *

The week leading into their practice match against Aobajohsai-  _ of all schools _ \- was tense. Tobio still hadn’t explained to Hinata why the moniker of ‘King’ was so painful, which meant he also hadn’t explained that several of the classmates who had labeled him as such would be at the game. Not only would they be on the other side of the net, but his annoying and petty former upperclassman Tōru Oikawa, who had likely insisted that Tobio be the primary setter for the whole game, would be present as well. 

He could feel his own anxiety rising as the weekend approached, and along with it, Hinata’s concern. For every time they practiced volleyball - before school, at lunch, after school, and sometimes past sunset - Tobio felt he was now an expert on the subtly calculating worry that permeated the other boy’s aura. However, the more he noticed it the less capable he became of saying anything on his own, since Hinata was no longer asking questions after their mini spat post-rookie-game.

But the extra attention he paid to the short redhead while waiting to be pestered about what was bothering him made it all the more apparent to Tobio when Shōyō began his own descent into nervous wreck. By the time they’d actually arrived at Aobajohsai, the stupid alien had thrown up once and spent ten of the fifteen minutes they’d been there in the bathroom. He would’ve yelled some sense into him if Suga hadn’t stopped him, though it didn’t seem like anyone else’s methods were any more effective. 

“Just play like usual, dumbass,” he finally hissed as they took the court for the game start. Such advice, Tobio believed, should have been sufficient. When he took a serve to the back of the head at the end of set one, he realized it was, in fact, not. He knew the expression on his face must have been horrifying since Shōyō looked seconds from pissing his pants. He shrugged off Daichi’s warnings and took hold of the trembling redhead by the shoulders. 

“What,” he ground out, “could be scaring you more than me right now?” From their contact he expected to feel exactly what Shōyō was, but it seemed the other boy was keeping a tight rein on his emotions for the time being. 

The alien peered up at him, clearly full of dread, and whispered, “Before the game, the onion-head guy said in the bathroom that if I sucked you’d definitely quit playing with me, because you don’t play with people who can’t score! And I don’t want you not to play with me!”

It took Kageyama by surprise, then settled heavily in his stomach. “That’s not how it is,” he admitted stiffly. “But now I'm saying we're still playing together, aren't we?” He tried to smooth the grimace in which his face was stuck, but the pricks of tears that beaded in the corners of Hinata’s brown eyes told him he hadn’t been successful. “Can you think of something that'd make me want to quit playing with you more than  _ serving a ball straight into my head? _ ”

Beneath his hands, Shōyō quivered and shook his head. 

“So now that you got that out of the way, you better play right in the next set, you dumbass scrub!” Tobio finished as he turned on heel to meet the gazes of their teammates. Sugawara flashed him a grin along with an enthusiastic thumbs up that Tobio acknowledged by ducking his head in embarrassment. Behind him, Tanaka was taking the momentum further until Tobio heard Hinata cheering the upperclassman's name. He joined the others on the sidelines, taking a swig of water on which he promptly choked when Daichi smacked him on the back. 

"Nice job with Hinata!" the captain cheered. 

"Yeah, I thought I was gonna have to pull you off if the poor kid," Suga added cheekily. "Why was he so nervous?"

After catching his breath, Tobio grunted, "Because he's stupid." Despite his words, the setter's stomach flipped when he recalled, ' _ I don't want you not to play with me _ .' That the little redhead could say something so cheesy without batting an eye was baffling to Tobio. The alien lacked a lot of human decorum, which surely contributed, It was almost annoying, too, that he could say something so casually which was so capable of wrecking Tobio’s insides. He pressed a hand into his stomach, willing it to calm. 

“Hey, hey, Kageyama!” a bright voice teased, and Tobio whipped up to glare at the redhead who’d bounded over after his pep-talk from Tanaka. “You’re not nervous now, right?”

Unbidden heat rose to the setter’s cheeks and he grabbed the smaller boy by the head mid-bounce with a cry of, “You don’t get to say anything about being nervous, idiot!” 

“Since we’re all feeling better, let’s start talking about our plan for set two,” the chilly voice of their captain ordered from over their shoulders. 

They fell into a rhythm with their second set once Hinata was back in the air. Contrary to what he’d thought he’d feel, it didn’t bring Kageyama any extra satisfaction to see the confused faces of his former classmates, Kindaichi and Kunimi, each time his zippy redheaded teammate hit a quick. If anything he felt more focused on his task of tracking each of his teammates, of tossing the perfect ball, of winning. These were normal opponents; there was no time or space to gloat if the game wasn’t over yet. 

_ At least,  _ he thought,  _ Oikawa isn’t here.  _

Despite a lack of superstition, Tobio cursed himself for jinxing the game at the start of the third set. It was the screaming girls that alerted all of them to the devil’s untimely arrival, followed by a cheerful voice claiming that he was ready for practice. While the rest of the team swiveled to find the source, Tobio slumped and turned reluctantly to verify that, yes, it appeared that Oikawa Tōru was, in fact, the starting setter for Aobajohsai. 

“Kageyama, who’s the pretty boy?” Tanaka demanded. “I kinda hate him already.” 

Tobio ran a hand through his hair, trying to find an outlet for his irritation. “Oikawa Tōru. He was the setter at KitaDai. He’s really good at everything, but especially serving and setting. Watching him was how I learned to jump serve.”

“Damn, I had heard they had a good server,” Sugawara muttered. “I guess they meant him.” 

Ever the rock, Daichi interrupted quickly, “It doesn’t matter. I heard their coach tell him to take extra time warming up. And no matter how good he is, we only have one set left, and we’re going to win it.” 

The stress visibly lifted from the teams shoulders at the reminder, and they took the court for set three. Even if Kindaichi and Kunimi’s presence hadn’t affected him once the game began, knowing that Oikawa was there too wriggled its way under Tobio’s skin. Waiting for the whistle that would signal the pompous asshole’s entrance was like waiting for the axe at an execution. He couldn’t help picking up speed throughout the set, hoping that if he rushed, then maybe—

_ —FWEEEE! _

The first-year setter glared at the sideline, where his grinning former senpai waited to come in to serve at the whistle’s interruption. 

“How bad can it be?” he heard Hinata whisper with a tug on the back of his practice jersey. 

Across the court, Oikawa jabbed a finger at Tsukishima then tossed the ball. In the span of a second the ball left his hand no more than a blur and ricocheted off the blond’s hastily clasped arms into the upper level of the gym. Kageyama supposed that the terrified expression that overcame the redhead’s face did not require him to answer the question. 

“Just focus and get the ball back,” Kageyama ordered, though two more lightning fast serves made such a task impossible. Hinata looked visibly shaken and even Tsukishima was disgruntled, but Captain Sawamura proved to be unwavering as he rallied them for the next serve. And it worked, as moments after the whistle, the tall blocker managed to keep the ball up, sending it soaring back over the net. 

“Hinata-” Kageyama started, but he needn’t have worried as the redhead sprinted into place in time to get a hand on Kindaichi’s spike. _ Oh, this will work,  _ he thought as he positioned himself under the falling ball. He saw Ennoshita running up to his left, but Hinata was already midair to his right, making his decision for him. As the ball slammed into the court behind Oikawa, a swell of pride rose in him at the sight of the opponent setter’s stunned expression. It was rare that Oikawa wore real emotion, but even from across the net Tobio knew that shock was genuine. 

The whistle blew their victory and pride turned to discomfort as Tobio’s former upperclassman eyed Hinata with interest. Oikawa looked at Tobio, too, then raised an eyebrow, grinned, and waved. Tobio glared in return before joining the team at the sidelines where Takeda-sensei congratulated them on their win. Whatever he said sounded encouraging, but the setter’s thoughts strayed far from it. He was secure enough in his role as setter not to be jealous of the attention that flashy spiker’s received, but something about the way Oikawa looked at Hinata bothered him. What if he could tell something was different about him by the way he jumped? He struck the thought immediately: even if he was different, no one’s first assumption would be that different equaled alien. 

Maybe it was jealousy, then? It  _ was  _ unfair that Hinata had those kinds of reflexes and no skill to make proper use of them. Obviously Oikawa, as good as he was, would take note of that. He was acting that way just to get a rise out of him, no doubt. It was always so troublesome when Oikawa entered the picture; Tobio would have to do as he always did and ignore it. With a sigh, he tuned into Takeda’s speech as he wrapped it up, but could offer no more input than to bow with the rest of the team. 

* * *

After their bus arrived back at school and the gym had been cleaned, Sugawara had tasked Kageyama with ensuring Hinata made it home. 

“Look at him. He’s falling asleep standing up!” the co-captain remarked. “Don’t you live close to each other? I see you walk home together after practice sometimes.”

“Ah, yeah,” the taller boy confirmed. 

Decision made, Suga took the mop from Tobio’s hands and exchanged it for a half-awake alien. Tobio huffed under the sudden weight as Hinata clung to his neck. “Go ahead and leave. It’s sad watching him try,” the upperclassmen urged. “We’re almost done, anyway.”

“Hinata’s like a kid,” Yamaguchi giggled as the duo shuffled past the storage room where he and Tsukishima were stowing equipment. Tsukishima pushed his glasses up his nose, managing to look smug while doing so. “The king has a heart,” he drawled. 

“Shut up, Tsuki,” both Tobio and Shōyō muttered, the latter barely heard over a yawn. Yamaguchi snorted, though his tall friend sneered at the nickname which he only tolerated from Yamaguchi himself. 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” 

“Sorry, Tsuki.”

Even with Hinata’s weight pulling him at varying intensities depending on the boy’s level of wakefulness, Tobio managed to pull his phone from his school bag, flip it open and dial. 

“Tobio?” his mother answered. “Is your game over? I’m making dinner tonight.”

He was surprised to hear his mother was home on a Tuesday night. Especially during the work week, she tended to stay late. “Yeah, I”m on my way home. Is it OK if Hinata stays over? He’s practically sleepwalking.” 

“No I’m not,” the redhead in question mumbled. Tobio jostled him for good measure, earning a quiet grunt in return. 

His mother was quiet for a beat but when she spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice as she agreed, “Of course! Do you want me to come get you?” 

“It’s fine. We’re only fifteen minutes away,” he replied. 

“I don’t wanna walk,” Shōyō whined. 

“Shut up, idiot.” 

In his ear, his mother laughed. “Stay there. It’ll be just a second.” 

He heard movement and the sound of keys. “Mom-”

“Tobio. See you in a minute.” 

The line went dead and he sighed, then lowered them both to the sidewalk. “Dummy,” he reiterated as he propped his sleepy friend against the school fence; they certainly hadn’t made it far. “Now my mom is coming to get us.” 

Bearing no shame, the smaller boy dropped a head of orange curls to Tobio’s shoulder and pressed into his side. “Is she making dinner, too?” he murmured. 

Tobio didn't answer, stunned as he was by the overly friendly gesture. "Get off me," he barked, shoving the redhead by the shoulder. 

Even half asleep, the fire of competition flared in amber eyes and Shōyō pushed back after flailing briefly off balanced. "You get off!" 

"I-I'm not even on you!" Tobio spluttered. 

Shōyō emitted a piteous moan and dropped his head back against the wall. "Whatever! I'm so tired!" 

Both were saved from further interaction as headlights turned the corner and flooded the darkness. Tobio rose and motioned for Shōyō to do the same. "C'mon, dumbass. Time to get up." 

Shōyō, though, looked up petulantly and held out his hands for assistance. Torn between inconveniencing his mom longer than necessary and arguing with the needy alien, Tobio yanked the smaller boy to his feet and ducked under his arm to keep him steady. With his arm across Tobio's neck, Shōyō was almost on tiptoes, but he didn't complain, only swayed lightly on his feet. 

The car came to a stop moments later and Tobio fumbled open the door. "Wow, you must be exhausted, Hinata-kun," Tobio's mother marveled as her son tossed the boy in the tiny backseat. 

"Thanks for picking us up, Kageyama-san," Shōyō yawned before his head lolled back onto Tobio's shoulder. The taller boy stiffened, but with his mom's eyes on them from the rear view mirror, he didn't dare shove him off again. Mouth in a tight line, he averted his eyes out the window and glared as if a frown would halt the spread of the blush across his face.

His mother had assured him it was no trouble and asked, "Have you called your parents to let them know you'll be here?" 

"I've tried calling but no one answers," Shōyō answered sleepily. Tobio blinked in surprise, and with their close proximity, he knew the moment the alien realized what he'd said when he, too, froze.

Kageyama-san replied with an awkward sort of hum and tapped her fingers against the wheel, the only muted noise in the quiet car. “Well,” she offered slowly, “I’m sorry to hear that. If you, um, need to stay longer, you can.” 

This time, Tobio did not try to argue the point. Now appearing a bit more awake, Shōyō straightened, leaving a cool absence against Tobio’s side. “I’ll, um, try again,” he offered. “They were probably at… work.” 

“If… you don’t think they’ll worry, you don’t have to,” she said, voice gentle. “I said before, you’re welcome any time.” She pulled the little car into the garage and gave the two a cheerful, “Well, let’s go. I need to finish dinner.”

Though he dragged his feet, Shōyō managed to make it inside without Tobio’s help, but the tall boy hovered behind him in case he swayed. “Can I just go to sleep?” the smaller boy muttered.

Tobio, with a wrinkled nose at the thought, flicked the back of his friend’s head. “That’s gross. At least take a shower. And you should eat or you’re going to end up getting sick.” Without waiting for a response, he herded the redhead towards the bathroom and swiped his school things from his hands. “I’ll put your stuff up,” he grumbled. “Come eat when you’re done. Don’t fall asleep in there, either.” 

“I won’t,” Shōyō said, waving a hand dismissively before disappearing behind the door. 

There was something about Shōyō’s fatigue and the confession about calling his parents that propelled Tobio into proactivity. After all, while the circumstances may be different, he could understand trying to reach out to someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. It was isolating, and, as annoying as Shōyō could be, Tobio didn’t actually want the alien to suffer. He frowned at the redhead’s messy stack of shabby, donated notebooks, then reorganized the pile into something functional. With care, he laid out the futon which he’d only just put up from the last time Shōyō stayed the night. The dark-haired boy took a moment to survey his handiwork and take stock of the warmth that was pushing him to action. 

“Tobio!” his mother called. “Can you come here, please?”

Hearing her voice spurred the realization that what he was feeling was  _ protective.  _ Even in the privacy of his room, the boy’s face twisted at the offensive thought. Damn, he was such a loser, acting like  _ his mom _ over a friend. When else had he felt this way? Maybe when Miwa’s boyfriend broke up with her that one time? Or,at the hospital when his grandfather—? He shook his head to clear the thoughts before they took root. Obviously those were different situations; they were family. That was normal. He didn’t know if feeling that way about a new friend was normal too. As if it would prove otherwise, he toed Shōyō’s books askew before leaving the room.

“Do you need help?” Tobio asked as he padded back into the kitchen.

His mother, stirring something on the stove, was quiet for a moment, then said, “Shōyō-kun doesn’t have a good home, does he?” 

“Um.” Tobio chewed his lip while he frantically tried to conjure up an explanation that did not involve aliens, spaceships, or space terrorists. “I don’t know?” he offered. 

A click and the stove was off, and she turned to regard the nervous high schooler. “If so, that’s not something children should have to worry about on their own,” she informed. “And I know you’re in high school now but you’re still a child. I probably haven’t given you much proof of this, but if you need something, you can ask me no matter what.”

Briefly, Tobio entertained the idea of telling the entire truth. Maybe things would be easier if there was someone who could help. But he imagined his mother seeing Shōyō in his natural form, or his spaceship, or his thoughts, and quashed the idea. It wasn’t as if he had handled the notion well in the beginning; he couldn’t imagine how his mom would react. Adults tended to act on their own, too, thinking they knew best. What if she told someone else, and then that person told, and so on? He didn’t want Shōyō getting picked up and dissected in a lab somewhere just because he told his mom. 

He could, however, try and make the most of it. She definitely thought Shōyō’s home life was lacking, and technically it was true. “Well,” Tobio started. “I don’t think he has many clothes. And he never has lunch. And I think our club teacher had to get him shoes.” 

The serious woman frowned, pulled a stylus from the tight bun of her hair, and retrieved her cell phone from the counter. After a few moments of tapping, she nodded, more to herself than her son, and decided, “Your father and I saved up a lot of money when you were trying to get into Shiratorizawa, but Karasuno costs a lot less. So, Sunday, we could take Hinata to the store.” 

Dutifully, the boy nodded, and his mother busied herself plating their dinner, but she wasn’t finished yet. He could see her gently rub her beneath her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was thin. “Tobio, I’m sorry. I’ve taken for granted that you’re such a good son. You never complain, never ask for anything, but you never say that you’re having a hard time either. And I thought that you were fine until Miwa said you were struggling, but even then you didn’t say. I know it’s because you’ve had to learn to be fine on your own because we weren’t here.”

“Mom, it’s OK,” he muttered. The shift in conversation was like a rug being pulled beneath his feet. He wanted to retreat, go to a place where he wouldn’t have to hear it. Even if somewhere, in the recesses of his heart where he hid away all his disappointment, he felt validated to hear an apology, it brought an unwelcome prickle to his eyes. 

She shook her head but said nothing, allowing Tobio time to rub his reddening eyes. “Why don’t you make sure your friend didn’t fall asleep in the bathroom?” she suggested, her tone light with false sounding cheer. With a noise of agreement the only thing he could muster, the boy fled the room to go rap on the bathroom door. “Hey, Hinata,” he called, voice cracking, “are you almost done?” 

He heard a short scramble, like something was knocked over, then a small face was peeking from a crack in the door. “I wasn’t sleeping,” he assured. “Can I borrow some clothes?” 

The constricting squeeze in his chest he had been unaware of loosened its hold then, and Tobio couldn’t help the gentle snort at the obvious lie. “You idiot. Wait a second.” He wasn’t sure at this point how many of his clothes he’d lent to the alien, but he supposed he didn’t care too much. Another shirt, a pair of shorts and underwear went into the redhead’s little hands without a grumble from their owner. “Want to eat?” he asked when Shōyō emerged in the oversized outfit. “Mom already set a plate for you so you kinda have to.” 

There was something sad that lingered around Shōyō’s amber eyes, but he turned a smile towards the taller boy and agreed. 

It had only taken Shōyō minutes to fall asleep after brushing his teeth. Tobio helped his mom clean, their previous talk abandoned, and they parted ways for the night. It had been a couple of days, but the boy huddled under his blanket and opened his email, and - finally! There was a response sent yesterday evening. 

_ ~Dear volleyball96-kun~ _

_ Thanks for taking an interest in the great, wide universe and my little blog. I apologize for the delay in response. I’ve been quite busy with some unforeseen occurrences.  _

_ I must say, wow, what a specific scenario you’ve envisioned! Are you trying to write a novel? If you are, I want credit for my input. :P  _

_ About your first question in this oddly specific hypothetical scenario, I think my answer would vary wildly from the response of other people. I’ve always wanted to meet an alien, so I think if a friendly and peaceful alien wanted to befriend me, I’d be all for it! I can understand, though, where most people would have issues. The very concept of intelligent life outside our own is frightening or unimaginable. It serves to remind us that our existence is quite small and insignificant when compared to the vast universe, though we’d love to think of ourselves as all-important. One thing you’ve noted is that our alien friend apparently looks human, so it becomes easy to forget about these existential concerns as time goes on. If you’re not confronted by it often, then it doesn’t exist, right?  _

_ Well, you might think so, but that would be like denying that other countries and cultures exist. If I wanted to befriend Alien-chan, then I have to acknowledge that he’s very different, with a different culture that has shaped his view. At least, that is the approach I would take in being friends. It wouldn’t be unlike making friends with any ol’ foreigner in that way! Especially if he is trying to live like a human as you said. If you never listen to what someone tries to tell you about their home just because it’s different and that’s scary, then you aren’t being a very good friend. I wouldn’t want to make Alien-chan feel more lonely than he probably does already just by being on a different planet. _

_ And while I would never think of telling anyone I knew a real alien, the thing you’ve mentioned about his planet would cause me concern. Are these “bad guys” going to find their way to Earth? If that were a possibility, I would only then consider telling someone about Alien-chan’s existence. It wouldn’t be very nice if all of Earth got destroyed and I could’ve done something about it, you know? I would hope that Alien-chan would understand that as well, having already become a refugee of sorts.  _

_ Does this answer your question, Volleyball96-kun? You seem to have a vivid imagination about alien life. If you want to talk more, I’d be happy to! I would want to know where your made up alien friend came from, how they got here, and so on!  _

_ SetInSpace94 _

Tobio struggled through the wordy email several times before he grasped what the author was saying. He couldn’t just pretend that Hinata wasn’t an alien just because he looked human, but it didn’t have to change how he befriended him. Thinking back on the few weeks he’d known HInata, he considered anew that, perhaps, he hadn’t made him feel as accepted as he could have. It was unsettling sometimes to hear about space and aliens, but Tobio didn’t want Hinata to feel like he couldn’t talk about it at all. If he thought of his own life, Tobio had never shared his experience with his last year of middle school, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, exactly. Who was he supposed to tell when there was no one who would be willing to understand? That was a lonely feeling; he could learn to be that friend. 

A peace settled over Tobio and he quietly stowed his laptop. Staring at the ceiling, he made a resolution to listen to at least one story about Hinata’s life before Earth every day. 

Though, if Shōyō was annoying about it, no amount of sad alien history would save him from Tobio’s wrath. 

* * *

Following the failure of a practice game, Tōru slammed serve after serve into the farthest corner of the court. Iwaizumi Hajime, his childhood friend and team’s co-captain, eyed him with exasperation, but tossed him another ball from the bin. 

“Tobio-chan is the  _ worst, _ ” Oikawa bit out right before he jumped. The ball landed well to the right of where he’d intended and he clicked his tongue in irritation. “First, he has the audacity to be better than me just by being born, and now he finds some tiny freak who can keep up with him? Iwa-chan, it’s not fair!”

“Have you considered that you’re just an asshole who’s jealous of a kid?” Hajime retorted. 

Oikawa directed a pout at his spiky-haired friend. “I know who I am, Iwaizumi,” he grumbled. “Doesn’t mean I can’t complain!” He twirled a ball against his palms, then tossed it back to the bin, signalling the end of his self-imposed discipline. “Where did that little gremlin come from, anyway?” 

Hajime joined the disgruntled setter on the other side of the court to pick up the stray balls. “Sugawara told me that he was Kageyama’s friend in middle school who just started playing.” 

Oikawa pursed his lips and set one indignant hand on his hip. “Why are you talking to Karasuno’s vice-captain, Iwa-chan?” He received a hard thrown ball straight into his gut in answer. 

“I asked him how Kageyama was doing, you piece of shit,” Iwaizumi bellowed. “Not all of us are shitty  _ senpai _ .” 

Holding his stomach, Tōru gasped, “You’re so mean,” before collapsing dramatically to the floor. Then, clearly fine, he bolted upright and exclaimed, “I didn’t think Tobio-chan had friends at KitaDai.” Hajime shrugged, though his face revealed his misgivings about the sentiment as well. 

“Ah, Oikawa-san, Hajime-san,” a voice called from the gym doors behind them. Both turned to see the last of their team slinking towards the exit, their rookies Kindaichi Yūtarō and Kunimi Akira being ushered out by the remaining third-years, Hanamaki Takahiro and Matsukawa Issei. “Is it OK if we leave?”

“I told you, you don’t have to ask Oikawa for permission,” Hanamaki said to Kindaichi, who shrugged apologetically. “Otherwise you’ll be here all night.” 

“That’s rude, Makki,” Tōru called. “Why must all of you be so mean to me? Kindaichi, as your kind captain and caring  _ senpai _ , I permit you to leave- ah! Wait!”

The two upperclassmen jostled Kindaichi and Matsukawa teased, “See what happens?”

Oikawa cast a filthy glare at his classmates, then smiled up at the two first-years from his place on the gym floor. “Did Tobio-chan have any friends in your grade at KitaDai?” 

Kindaichi at least looked thoughtful, but Kunimi snorted a decisive, “No.” 

“Oh? So do you remember seeing Karasuno’s tangerine shorty in any of your classes?” 

The two exchanged contemplative glances. “He wasn’t in any of my classes in middle school,” Kindaichi said slowly. 

“Not in mine either,” Kunimi advised. “I don’t remember seeing anyone with hair like that at KitaDai at all. I would think that’d be pretty memorable.”

“Thank you!” Tōru chirped. “That is all! You can leave now.” The two rookies hesitated but were pushed along by the upperclassmen who were more than familiar with the mercurial requests. “Iwa-chan!” Tōru hissed once their teammates were gone. “Do you know what that means?”

Hajime frowned, resuming their task of cleaning the gym. “Oikawa,” was all he answered, his tone a warning which his friend ignored. 

“It means Tobio-chan is a big, fat liar!” 

The frown Hajime wore deepened, and he grabbed Tōru by the arm in a serious gesture. “Leave the kid alone,” he said. “You heard Kindaichi and Kunimi. If Kageyama didn’t have any friends in middle school, he’s probably trying to save face with his new team by saying that he did. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” 

“But he obviously knows chibi-chan from somewhere,” Tōru insisted, yanking his arm from Iwaizumi’s grasp.

“So? It doesn’t matter. Kageyama’s had a hard enough time as it is. Just leave him and his friend alone,” Hajime growled. “If you don’t drop it, I’m walking out the door and you can clean this mess by yourself.” 

The threat earned a pout from the handsome setter. “I thought you were my friend, Iwa-chan,” Tōru sighed as he finally resumed cleaning. 

Iwaizumi snorted and lobbed another ball at Oikawa, who caught it with his hands this time. “I am. Real friends will tell you when you’re being a ridiculous ass.” 

Oikawa stuck out his tongue in response, but the thought still lingered:  _ who is Hinata Shōyō? _


	5. Apastron

If there was any trait of which Tobio Kageyama had an abundance, it was discipline. Discipline kept his routine stable even when everything else changed. Fleeting things like motivation didn’t apply when it came to volleyball routine. He didn’t have to convince himself to run every other day, eat well, or stretch, even during the last year when his entire life had been disrupted. Doing these things were simply a part of existing. 

Hinata Shōyō, then, had become as routine as volleyball. 

Shōyō, he thought, was the first person- if the term person was applicable- that had wanted to stick around and seemed hellbent on being friends. Begrudgingly, Tobio didn't want to let that go without trying to maintain it. It began with his advice from the internet blogger, and Tobio had been meticulous about his decision to befriend Hinata in return. He committed to one story a day from the alien about his life, without fail, and notated it in a journal. By the end of May, three notable things had occurred: he had filled two slim notebooks with tales straight out of a science-fiction novel; Tobio felt a little less intimidated every time Shōyō started a sentence with, ‘Back on my planet;’ and, probably the most curious of all, Shōyō kept trying to hold his hand.

It was something about touch, he recalled from one of the earlier stories about Shōyō’s species’ Link. While everyone was always Linked through whatever hivemind they shared, touching someone was the equivalent of putting a hand over a speaker: noise still leaked through, but quieter than before, quieter than the direct Link you shared. Three weeks ago, before the email from  _ SetInSpace94,  _ Tobio would’ve literally shoved the alien off of him. Now, after weeks and weeks of diligent, disciplined practice at considering Shōyō’s idiosyncrasies from an alien point of view, Tobio was weighing the pros and cons of letting Shōyō grab onto him. 

It caught him by surprise, so subtle was the change, and he’d looked himself in the mirror that night he’d realized it and glared, as if the person frowning back was a stranger and a traitor. It wasn’t even that befriending Hinata had taken him so far out of his comfort zone that irritated him. What irritated him was how willing he had become to bend over backwards to acclimate so quickly. After so much silence, so much time alone, it was like walking into a noisy, crowded room, except the entire crowd was Hinata Shōyō, pulling him further in with bright eyes and an unrelenting smile. And Tobio let him. 

He could weigh the scenario against his burgeoning friendships among their teammates. There was a lot he was willing to change in order to get along with the rest of the Karasuno Volleyball Club. He learned which toss everyone preferred to hit and how to better talk to his teammates. In return, they were patient and understanding when he spoke- except Tsukishima- even though half the time the words didn’t come out the way he’d intended. He could probably count each of them- except Tsukishima- a real friend. 

But if, say, a nervous Asahi had asked him to give him a hug, he knows undoubtedly he would’ve kindly told the glass-hearted ace to fuck off. 

_ It’s because he’s a stupid, alien baby who can’t exist without some kind of security blanket, _ Tobio told himself, as he let Hinata cling to his arm. 

_ And you didn’t want him to feel lonely, _ he recalled when Hinata pulled him by the hand into a sprint towards the corner-store. 

_ So really, you've got a pretty good grip on this friendship thing,  _ he congratulated while Hinata wrapped skinny arms around him while he biked them home.

Friendship, though, was more than a series of trades and memories committed to paper, because Hinata was not content to let every conversation be about him. It was the lesson Tobio learned lying on his bedroom floor with a textbook resting over his face, when the redhead asked, “Hey, who is Kazuyo-san?”

Tobio was up like a shot, dark hair mussed around angry eyes. “Who told you about him?” he demanded. 

Shōyō looked dejected, letting his shoulders slump away from the side of the bed and curl towards his knees. “Your mom said you had a hard time after Kazuyo-san died. I just pretended to know what she was talking about.” He turned his large brown eyes from the notes beside him towards Tobio. They still looked bright, but with unshed tears. “It’s been bothering me. Why wouldn’t you have told me about something like that?” 

Floundering, Tobio opened his mouth, then shut it. Both questions poked at something unhealed inside him, a wound ignored and untended. The anger that made him bare his teeth moments ago at the reminder was unmasked at the sight of Shōyō’s eyes brimming with concern. “I…” Tobio started, clenching his fist into his thighs. 

So long did he waver in quiet indecision that Shōyō sighed and offered a small smile. “It’s not like I’d make you tell me,” he said. “I just thought you should know that you can. You know, if you were still having a hard time.” 

“My granddad,” Tobio blurted. “Kazuyo-san was my granddad.”

Shōyō’s mouth widened to a small ‘o,’ and he scooted closer along the cool, wood floor towards Tobio. There was a slim, careful space between their legs, but Tobio felt the warmth radiating from the alien’s skin like there was no space at all. “Was he nice?” Shōyō prodded.

Somehow the idea of placing his notebook back over his face made the conversation seem less daunting. Tobio didn't go so far, but eyes closed and voice soft, he replied, “He was the best.” 

Shōyō emitted a gentle hum of acknowledgement, then tentatively closed the gap between their calves. Warmth became heat, but it soothed the tension from Tobio’s body as it radiated up and up. Blue eyes narrowed when he blinked back the image of a wine red sunset and the wind through trees. “What's this?” he sighed. 

“Picturing something nice always makes me feel better," Shōyō admitted. Casual Links Shōyō tried sometimes didn't allow time for coherent thought to form alongside the imagery. As the alien stopped pushing his thoughts out into the energy that connected them, Tobio imagined Shōyō was saying something, but it was like he'd whispered it at a great distance. Still, it left Tobio with the impression of being hugged, safe, and he was grateful twofold: both for the sentiment, and for Shōyō apparently knowing him well enough not to say or do anything that emotional outside his head. Tobio probably would have died of embarrassment. 

Try as he might to deny it, the continued press of their legs together was comforting. "He's the reason I have volleyball," Tobio offered, fortified by the solid presence. "He taught me and my sister how to play and would take care of me while my parents worked. Which was all the time." 

Hinata nodded with the same enthusiasm with which he did anything. "He does sound great," the redhead smiled, though it dropped quickly into a grimace. " But…"

"Yeah," Tobio sighed through the hitch in his chest. It was something he had only talked about once, when Miwa had wheedled and pressed until he'd snapped his anger in the way only a teenager could. Although the subsequent four month long absence in which Miwa was away was logically the result of a busy college semester, Tobio harbored the fear still that it was simply the first in a cascade of failures. Not long after, he'd been denied at Shiratorizawa, then been benched for bad behavior, so perhaps it wasn't illogical at all. 

"Hey," Shōyō said, nudging Tobio's leg with his foot, "I'm sorry. Maybe you can tell me more about him some other time." It was a non-committal offer Tobio accepted with a relieved nod which earned him an easy smile. "Wanna go play volleyball for a bit? This Japanese homework makes no sense." 

"God, yes."

* * *

Tobio’s middle school years had been an eternity, so he was surprised when July was already upon them. The high of their first Interhigh matches were followed by the crush of defeat to Seijoh, though Oikawa gloated mercifully less than Tobio expected. Karasuno's defeat was a unique experience for him: it wasn't as if Tobio had never lost a game, but it was the first time he'd been able to share the loss. Running screaming through the gym with Hinata had been cathartic, and the reassuring affirmations, side hugs and back slaps that made their rounds from teammate to teammate had worked their magic. He was ready to move onto the next thing.    


Which were two training camps in Tokyo: the first a couple days at Fukurōdani, and the second at Shinzen. 

It instilled a sense of wonder in Tobio as he watched Hinata flit about and socialize with everyone between afternoon games, no matter their grade or school. Wonder, accompanied by a small amount of jealousy and begrudging admiration. He still held hope that some of the alien’s natural charisma would rub off on him the longer they remained friends, but for the time being he was inundated with tales from the redhead about what so-and-so from Nekoma or Fukurōdani had said. 

Tobio didn’t pay much attention to it. There were volleyball matches to play and new plays to learn and practice, after all, and they had already missed part of the day to take make-up tests. What he did notice was the absence of the bouncy middle blocker at dinner time that night, and he spied Shōyō across the room hovering over Nekoma’s setter’s shoulder as he played some handheld video game. A sudden and surprising jealousy coiled in his gut at the sight and he lost track of the jovial conversation of his own friends and teammates. 

Well, the idiot was allowed to have friends outside Karasuno, he reasoned, chewing his food slowly and ignoring the jostling he was getting from Nishinoya Yū, Karasuno’s energetic libero. If Shōyō wanted to hang out with- was his name Kozume?- that was fine. Because at the end of the night, the little weirdo was going to wiggle around on his futon and talk to Tobio about whatever inane thing popped into his head until he fell asleep. 

And he had, except it had been peppered with pauses to send texts back to- who was he texting anyway? Tobio silently cursed his mother for getting the alien a cheap, prepaid phone. 

“Kenma was telling me he just beat the level he was trying to earlier,” Shōyō offered while shoving the bright screen in Tobio’s face. He grunted at the intrusion of the offensively luminous phone and the jealous pang that renewed its stranglehold on his internal organs. “What don’t you have any video games, Tobio?”

The setter winced at the too loud usage of his first name in the crowded room, but their teammates seemed too preoccupied to notice. “Because I’d rather play volleyball,” he answered. The kids in elementary school had asked him that on occasion, and been shocked when he’d answered the same consistently.  _ Boring _ , his brain supplied helpfully. 

Shōyō giggled, though, and slipped the phone under his pillow. “Always volleyball, huh?” he teased. “That’s probably why you’re so good at it, though.” 

“Obviously,” Tobio scoffed, jealousy giving way to pride. “You can’t expect to go pro if you don’t practice as much as possible.” Behind them he heard Daichi yell at everyone that he was turning off the lights and the room went dark to a chorus of groans. Even in the dim room, Tobio could see honeyed eyes staring at him with a ferocity that hadn’t been present moments before, and it made him swallow back a shiver. 

“Do you think if I keep practicing, I could play with you at that level?” Shōyō questioned. The phone under his pillow buzzed, but it went ignored. 

“I, uh. Would… you want to?” It was the only thing Tobio’s suddenly scattered thoughts could offer. 

Hinata blinked, then reached across the gap in their futons to flick his finger against Tobio’s forehead. Ignoring the taller boy’s indignant but stifled squawk, the redhead asserted, “Of course. Volleyball is awesome and I like it when you toss to me most. And, well, if I’m here indefinitely so I might as well do something. Thinking about the future and stuff.” 

An unnecessarily triumphant smirk wormed its way across Tobio’s lips, and to make up for it, he scoffed, “Well, you’re going to have to practice until your arms fall off, but yeah, maybe you could.” 

The room, filled with hushed whispers, was startled by a most undignified yelp as Hinata jammed his fingers into Tobio’s side. 

The next morning, though, Shōyō was sitting side by side with Kozume for breakfast, and the way their shoulders touched made Tobio frown. It wasn’t just Kozume either: Hinata wouldn’t take his eyes off Nekoma’s rookie middle blocker Lev during their morning match against them, and kept meeting their eyes from across the net. 

It wasn’t as though Tobio was paying extra attention to the redhead. He took stock of everyone on the court with him as part of his job as the team’s setter. But maybe, he thought, Shōyō seemed almost manic as he was blocked yet again by his taller opposite. Tobio wasn’t even sure if Shōyō was listening to him anymore, but if the boy was in the air and hitting the quick, it was probably fine. 

And then Shōyō collided midair with Asahi in their third set. 

"You idiot!" Tobio shouted over Sugawara's shoulder as the upperclassman assessed the smaller boy for injuries. "What were you thinking?"

Finished apologizing to Asahi who was almost in tears, Shōyō's gaze snapped to Tobio's. His breath caught at the indiscernible emotion on his friend's face in that second where their eyes met. Then his heart twisted when Shōyō’s ferocious eyes slid off of him and fell back to Kozume on the Nekoma side of the net. 

"What the hell," Tobio growled, though it was only loud enough for himself, overpowered by Coach Ukai laying into the redhead anew for inattention.

Freshly humbled, Shōyō slunk back onto the court, and Tobio's eyes followed until the alien stopped, shoulders straight, in front of him.

"I'm not going to hit the ball without looking anymore," Shōyō announced like a knife straight into Tobio's chest. 

He knew his reaction was a knee-jerk one when all he could imagine was an empty court behind him and his set falling untouched as he hissed, "Yes, you are." 

"No, I’m not," the redhead ground out. "This isn't good enough. I need to be better." 

_ You're going to lose him _ , he knew, and Tobio glared right back at the shorter boy.  _ But maybe not if he has to stay?  _ "We’ve tried it before and you never hit it. I won't toss to someone who can't hit." Hinata was obsessive; there was no way-

"Fine," Shōyō snapped wearing a wounded expression and turning back to the net. Tobio watched Kozume offer Shōyō a concerned head tilt. Shōyō shook his head and smiled, and Tobio bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

* * *

Following their inevitable loss to Nekoma, Shōyō was benched by Coach Ukai for the rest of the day, and he seemed avoidant of Tobio as well. The distance that sprouted between them may as well have been a canyon, because Tobio was at a loss for how to close the gap. Shōyō was no more than a glimpse of red hair on the sidelines during their practice game, or a cheerful voice mingling with others’ on the bus ride home. It was, at first, a blessed relief when they departed the bus back at Karasuno and a small hand clasped the back of Tobio’s shirt. He’d wanted to remain cool, but Tobio turned eagerly to accept whatever it was Shōyō had to say. 

“Toss to me,” the redhead ordered, and for the first time the words sparked irritation for Tobio. Still, he huffed his agreement and set about organizing equipment while Shōyō recruited the help of their new, timid rookie manager, Yachi Hitoka, to throw balls. 

“T-tell me if I’m doing it wrong, Kageyama-san,” she stuttered, little more than a squeak as she bowed in front of him. 

He recalled Shōyō mentioning the girl’s submissive personality, looked across the gym at his friend, and channeled his best impersonation. “No problem, H-Hi… Yachi. Just throw the ball as high as you can at me.” 

The blonde’s eyes went wide, letting Tobio think for a second he’d done it wrong, until a watery smile crossed her face and she gave him an awkward salute. “Of course, sir!” she said as she jogged dutifully towards Hinata, who was wheeling out a bin full of volleyballs. Tobio frowned at her retreating back. They’d studied together once before; why in the world would she call him sir?

Yachi looked excited to be included, but Shōyō still wore the same focused glare he had when he’d told Tobio he didn’t want to hit their quick anymore. The reminder brought another wave of resentment across the taller boy, and he set the first toss with a frown. He lost track of time as he sent failed after failed set across the space between them. Nothing was said, save for Hinata calling, “Again,” and the occasional, half-hearted plea from their tiny manager that, maybe, they should stop. 

“This is stupid, Hinata,” Tobio finally argued as the redhead staggered onto his feet, another missed ball falling beside him. If Tobio was exhausted, he knew HInata had to be as well. 

Still the smaller boy straightened and turned bright eyes onto Tobio. “No,” he hissed. “Again.” 

Tobio could feel his patience snapping like a frayed wire. “No! I’m done. It’s pointless to try something that isn’t going to work. You could be practicing any number of things you suck at; our quick works! Quit trying to change it!”

The redhead’s hands, clenched into fists, trembled at his side and when he looked up at Tobio, the taller boy was taken aback by the fury warping Shōyō’s face. “I’m not going to get any better if I learn how to do this,” he insisted through gritted teeth. “If I can’t get better, how am I supposed to keep playing?”

Behind them, Yachi murmured something fearful, but both boys ignored her shaky call. “Our next tournament’s a month away!” Tobio reminded. “You wouldn’t get better by then anyway, so just go back to how it was and-”

“No!” Shōyō shouted. “It isn’t just about the tournament!”

Tobio seized the boy’s sweaty shirt in a vice-like grip and pulled him close. Yachi squeaked at the action and he barely heard her running steps through the angry buzz ringing in his ears. Shōyō gripped his wrist in response, but his gaze didn’t waver from Tobio’s. Tobio expected the surge of emotion that would follow their contact; he didn’t expect how painful feeling nothing but the heat from Shōyō’s hand would be. “I can’t rely on you to play,” the alien said, low and tremulous. “Not if I want to be good. That’s what I learned this week.” 

“Just hit the fucking toss,” Tobio seethed. “All you have to do is jump! Why can’t you see that?”

Shōyō’s eyes flashed. More than just the gym lights, an angry bright light was swelling beneath his skin, and Tobio shoved, sending the boy stumbling to the ground. The redhead took a few, slow, measured breaths, and when he looked up through copper bangs, the light was gone. Tobio wished it wasn’t, because the righteous fury which had been there was replaced by something broken and raw. “You don’t think of me as your equal.” Shōyō concluded.

“That’s not…” Tobio stopped, brow cinched, bit his lip. The notion that the conversation was slipping away from volleyball tickled at his thoughts, but that didn’t make sense and he pushed the idea aside. “If you can’t help us win, then-”

“Then you’re a liar!” Shōyō shouted as he lunged to his feet. The next second his arms were around Tobio’s midsection and his own feet left the ground as they tumbled through the air. All the air left his lungs when they hit the gym floor and he dug nails into Shōyō’s back in a desperate bid for purchase. With the way Shōyō’s fingers twisted into the front of his shirt, Tobio flinched, expecting the worst, but a moment passed and he inched his eyes open to find the smaller boy hunched over him. Thin shoulders shook and Shōyō cried, guttural and choked through a clenched jaw. 

Then Tobio was freed as Shōyō was yanked off his chest by Tanaka and tossed aside into Yachi’s trembling arms. 

Even as the shouting upperclassman dragged him to his own feet, Tobio was numb, haunted by the image of his friend’s heartbroken face. 

* * *

Alone on his ship, Shōyō curled into himself on the bottom of the ship’s bunked beds and sobbed. The unnatural feeling of leaving the gym without Tobio hurt, but the look of dismissal and frustration worn by his friend when he’d yelled at him, the implication that if Shōyō wasn’t  _ useful _ , then there was no point…

He pounded a fist into the mattress and yelled into his pillow so the echo through his empty home couldn’t mock him. Tobio was his first friend, the only person who knew who he was. He’d made so many friends in the months he’d been here, but Tobio- awkward and indelicate as he was- was like his anchor. In a quiet world, devoid of the comforting presence of his people, Tobio was the voice in his heart that whispered,  _ You’re not alone. _

Not for the first time did Shōyō wish he could have had a glimpse into the inner workings of Tobio’s thoughts. The tall boy was notoriously bad at communication, even for a human. Maybe, he thought, Tobio hadn’t meant to imply that he wouldn’t play with Shōyō after all, but then the image of frustration carved onto a sharp face reinserted itself into Shōyō’s mind and the pain started anew. 

He hadn’t even said anything to him after their confrontation at the training camp. Even if Shōyō had felt the weight of his gaze on occasion, it had been up to him to make the first move. Cold dread shot through his stomach: maybe, Tobio was tired of being around him altogether? Tears spilled onto his cheeks again and he held himself tight as the thought gutted him. If that was true, how was he going to survive being on this forsaken planet?

And, as if to answer his question, across the little vessel came, from the cockpit, the staticky crackle of the long-quiet radio.


	6. False Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I should pick names for Tobio's parents. *picks popular names from late 70s Japan that start with T and M because I am lazy.*

"Is Shōyō not coming for dinner today?" Tobio's mother asked as she gathered dishes. “He usually comes over on Sunday.”

"Who's Shōyō?" 

The question came from the tired patriarch of the Kageyama family, who did not look up from his phone despite the invitation for conversation. 

Tobio looked down at his lap and his mother sighed, "He's Tobio's best friend. The one I told you about." 

"Mayumi, I can't keep up with all of his friends," he chided, and Tobio sunk a little further into his seat. 

"Mom, I'm not that hungry right now," he mumbled, face nearly level with the table surface. 

"Sit up," his father scolded, finally stopping his undisturbed phone scroll. "This is the only day this weekend I'm home for dinner, Tobio, and your mother worked hard on it. Don't disrespect her by not eating." 

"Takeshi-"

Tobio shut his eyes, straightened, and wished, for the hundredth time since their fight, that Shōyō was there.

* * *

If not seeing Shōyō was painful, seeing him and being ignored was miserable. 

During Monday practice, Coach Ukai put Shōyō with the B-Team, so the best Tobio could manage were passing glances which went unreturned. Lunch, similarly, he spent alone in his homeroom instead of passing a ball by the gym. Shōyō, though, seemed unaffected, if his boisterous laugh coming from his own classroom was any indication. 

Ruminating on their argument instead of listening to his teachers only furthered his annoyance. It  _ was _ simple: Hinata needed to use his super fast alien reflexes to move around and jump and that’s all there was to it. It  _ worked. _ Most of the time. Admittedly, it hadn’t worked against AobaJohsai in their last match, and there were a lot of players during the training camp who had gotten used to the redhead’s zippy speed, too. However, Tobio knew firsthand that Shōyō had no experience or skill to back up his only strength, which was why he needed Tobio’s sets. He was the only one who could hit it, so he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just  _ hit it.  _

Tobio was just going to have to make the little idiot see that he was right, and what better way to teach useless scrubs to listen than to watch a children’s volleyball class? Despite the brilliant idea, his congratulatory mood began to fade with each inattentive, grubby-handed child that bumped into him. It vanished when he heard a familiar voice sing-song, “You should respect your uncle and ask nicely!”

“Oh,” Tobio sighed as the owner of the voice exited the class and met his eyes. “Oikawa-san.” 

Tōru jolted at his name, handsome face contorting into one of horror, and emitted a garbled noise of shock. “Tobio-chan?” he managed. 

Perhaps it was the general weariness he’d been harboring since Saturday, but Tobio could scarcely manage a pout at the mocking use of his given name. “What are you doing at a children’s class?” he asked. 

Smoothing his expression into his usual cool features, Tōru raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the child at his side who Tobio had missed in his surprise. “I’m here with my nephew,” he retorted. “What are you doing creeping around a children’s class with no child?”

“Oh, well-”

“Actually, I don’t care,” the obnoxious upperclassman interrupted breezily with a wave of his hand. “Let’s go, Takeru.”

“Oikawa, wait!” Tobio shouted before his brain caught up to his mouth. "Can I ask you a-" what had  _ SetInSpace94 _ called it- "a  _ hypothetical  _ question?" 

Tōru narrowed his eyes. "Big word, Tobio. It depends: do you feel like begging?" 

The dark-haired boy was a second from informing the Seijoh setter he could pound sand, but the thought of Hinata continuing to ignore him and refusing their quick bade him to pause. Instead, mouth in a tight line, Tobio bowed at the waist and begged, "Please, Oikawa!" 

The older boy chuckled in a practiced, cartoon villain sort of way; Tobio pulled a face at the ground. How was this person nearly an adult? "Takeru! Take a picture of me next to Tobio," he ordered as his feet shuffled into Tobio's downcast view. 

"You're really lame sometimes, Tōru," the exasperated elementary schooler informed. It was all Tobio could do not to smirk as the cellphone camera clicked. 

Above him, Tōru sputtered indignantly, then cleared his throat and demanded, "What's the question already? I don't have all day."

Straightening his uniform, Tobio explained, "So, what if Iwaizumi said, like, two weeks before a super important tournament that he wanted to do something totally different that you had ever practiced with him, and-" 

Tōru held up his hand in a dramatic gesture to pause. Tobio did. “Tobio,” Tōru said, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I just said I don’t have all day. Is this about chibi-chan?”

The tall boy wrinkled his nose at the cutesy nickname. “It’s about  _ Hinata _ ,” he answered with pointed emphasis on Hinata’s name. “All of a sudden, he doesn’t want to hit our quick without looking. You know, the one where he sometimes closes his eyes or-”

“I’m familiar,” Oikawa sneered. “If he doesn’t want to then great. Where is the question?

“I mean, he can’t do it though,” Tobio explained. “He’s tried a million times and he’s never hit it. He sucks, but he won’t let go of the idea.”

A knowing look came over Tōru’s face that unsettled Tobio with its smugness. “So you want to know how to make him shut up and do what he’s told?” he practically purred. “Because you know best?”

“Wha- no! I just-”

“I’m disappointed, Tobio. That’s an awfully selfish way of setting don’t you think?” Tōru gave an exaggerated tut and poked a long finger into Tobio’s chest. “I bet you give everyone else on the team the kind of toss they like best, but you’re not willing to do the same for short stuff? Did you even ask him what he’d like instead? Are you giving him exactly what he wants? Because ultimately, he’s the one who should call the shots.” 

Flushed, Tobio drew his gaping mouth shut and Oikawa’s saccharine grin grew a bit wider. “Well, I hope that answers your not-question,” the upperclassman taunted. He turned to go, nudging his nephew along ahead, before he snapped his fingers and wheeled back around on Tobio. “Oh, wait: while you’re here, I have a question for you too. Where’d you meet chibi-chan?” Already stunned from the unwelcomed lecture, Tobio went rigid, blood cold. He was saved from answering as Oikawa continued his monologue with, “Because I heard that you’re telling people he was your friend from Kitagawa Daiichi, but Kindaichi and Kunimi haven’t seen the kid before in their lives, volleyball club or not. What’s up with that?”

Tobio’s head was light and listening to Tōru’s conjecture was like listening to someone talk underwater. Did this bastard  _ know  _ somehow? Was that where this was leading? Stupid, stupid! How did he not foresee this biting him in the ass? He had to get out of here, before he said something worse. Clumsily Tobio bowed, cutting off the surprised rival setter mid-sentence. “Th-thanks- no, wait, sorry! I’ve gotta go!” he stammered before he sprinted away from his former teammate without a second glance. 

When finally Tobio came to a panting halt, his knees were trembling and it was nothing to do with his run. He couldn’t believe it had somehow worked its way back to Oikawa, the lie Tobio had concocted about meeting Shōyō at school, but in retrospect it seemed obvious. Despite his air-headed appearance, Tōru was smart, too, and Tobio feared what would happen if he pieced together the truth. He uttered a string of curses that earned him a dirty glare from a passing woman and her child. 

It was several minutes before Tobio was calm enough to think straight, and he continued to remind himself that Oikawa hadn’t hinted at anything in his question. All Tobio needed to do was prepare an excellent story for why he’d told the lie before he saw Oikawa next, which likely wouldn’t be until their next game. He continued his methodical breathing as he reasoned through the situation, and whether actual or false, the sense of control he felt over the situation skyrocketed. Curious upperclassmen could be dealt with; he needed to focus on Hinata. 

If he thought about Oikawa’s words logically, Tobio  _ supposed  _ his volleyball advice wasn’t unreasonable.  _ Had  _ he ever asked Shōyō what kind of toss he wanted? The answer was a resounding  _ no,  _ but it wasn’t his fault. The redhead always said things like,”I like all your tosses,” and, “Hitting our quick like  _ zoom  _ makes me feel like  _ gwaaah!”  _ In Tobio’s mind, these exclamations were along the lines of, “Keep doing what you’re doing,” so he’d never once thought twice. In fact, thinking on it too much elicited a warm pride that was too embarrassing to acknowledge even to himself. No one had ever said they liked his sets so much, after all. So rather than dwell on it and how sickeningly happy it made him, Tobio continued on with the routine he thought was working for them. 

_ I need to go to the gym, _ he decided finally. The stress from Oikawa’s nosey questioning had subsided and in its place remained his usual drive: volleyball. Though, he wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to adjust his set without Hinata, individual practice wouldn’t make the problem worse. 

It was lucky, then, when Coach Ukai contacted him later with the answer. 

* * *

_ Look at me!  _ Tobio wanted to shout as his curly-headed friend disappeared in a rush as soon as evening practice concluded.  _ I’m staying late for you! Where are you going looking so damn giddy?  _ Not knowing made it difficult to focus on his nearly impossible task of setting the ball to lose momentum at its highest point in an arc. It was Coach Ukai’s crazy idea, a set only Shōyō could hit, one that would grant him control of the ball. Tobio’s solo act and Shōyō’s disappearance followed on the heels of two hours spent not even existing on the same court. 

But Tobio was disciplined. He grit his teeth, ignored the longing that permeated his bones, and asked Yachi to stay thirty more minutes. 

* * *

_ The training camp at Shinzen is in two weeks. Do you want to practice?  _ Tobio rehearsed in the bathroom. When he saw Shōyō in the club room all he managed was a sharp nod before the other boy was running after Suga. 

* * *

_ Mom is really worried that you haven’t come over. Training camp is in a couple days. Are you going to hang out with Kozume the whole time? Maybe we can practice together? _

* * *

_ I’m sorry. You were right.  _

Even the mirror looked judgmental. 

* * *

He shouldn’t have been jealous. They were fighting. He should have been angry. 

Still, seeing Shōyō gesture animatedly at Kenma from across the cafeteria made him jealous of the apathetic introvert with the bad dye job. 

It was possible, the hypercritical voice of his mind suggested, that Shōyō didn’t actually need him at all. Unlike Tobio, the alien held all the qualities required to make and maintain friends. There was no family tying him to Miyagi. If he so chose, Shōyō could fly himself right into Tokyo and go to Nekoma with his apparent best friend and live there, no problems. Maybe he had even told Kenma already that he was an alien. The gamer nerd seemed the type who wouldn’t freak out about that, unlike Tobio. 

It wasn’t just Kozume either. Tobio chewed his lunch and glared as Kenma’s friend Kuroo Tetsurō joined the duo wearing a sly grin and waving a book at Shōyō. The tall captain held the book high but Shōyō leapt easily to his level and snatched it, earning a laugh. Even Kenma smiled. Tobio accidentally bit his chopsticks and winced. 

“You and Hinata still aren’t talking.” 

Tobio started as the voice of vice-captain Sugawara interrupted his brooding. He could feel a flush starting at the realization that Suga had clearly caught him staring. “It’s fine,” Tobio said, as if that answered Suga’s unasked question.

The third-year tutted, scooted closer to Tobio and leaned in to ask in a low voice, “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move. Have you tried to talk to him first?”

If it were possible to chew aggressively, Tobio did so. “Sort of, maybe. Not really.” 

One of Suga’s thick brows arched. “Communication can solve pretty much any problem, Kageyama.” 

“I’m not good at communication,” the angry boy hissed.

“Clearly. But Hinata knows this and he’s not really the type to hold a grudge,” Suga advised with a reassuring smile. “Plus, you two seem to have this-” he swirled his hand as he searched for the word- “connection. It’s like he knows what you’re trying to say even when you inevitably mess it up.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Suga thumped him on the back- hard. Tobio coughed on his rice. “Just try it out,” the ashen-haired upperclassman ordered with a grin. “We’re all tired of seeing you mope and pine.” 

The flush spread to his ears and Tobio shouted an unintelligible array of denials. 

* * *

Two days. They still couldn’t get the quick. They still weren’t talking. But Yachi had coaxed them into practicing together that evening which was more interaction that Tobio had with Shōyō in weeks. He thought of Suga’s advice, but striking up a conversation about why they’d been ignoring each other seemed more daunting than trying to get that improbable set to work. Tobio had been practicing tirelessly but there was too much backspin, not enough, it was too fast, too slow.

And still, Shōyō jumped wordlessly for each of Tobio’s failed tosses. The taller boy could see the frustration carving deeper and deeper lines into Shōyō’s face with every match and practice that passed without the success of their quick. As if taunting him, Oikawa’s words rang endlessly through his head,  _ Are you giving him exactly what he wants?  _ until it became a jumbled mantra driven home by Shōyō’s savage scowl. 

He hadn’t done right by Hinata at all, he realized as the redhead dropped to the floor again, teeth and fists clenched, another failed hit. Not as his partner. When he laid down that night to replay their matches in his head, he barely heard Shōyō whisper as he rolled over beside him, “Sorry, Tobio.” 

His throat grew tight and his eyes hot, but the words wouldn’t come.  _ Why are you apologizing?  _ he wanted to scream in the dim silence of the room. 

However, by the time Tobio mustered the courage to face Shōyō, the other boy had already fallen asleep with his back to him. Until his vision blurred and his own breathing evened, Tobio stared at the spot where wavy, copper hair turned up against Shōyō’s neck and curled behind his ears. He remembered the first time he’d taken note of it: washing clothes after the first day of high school; a house that should’ve been empty; a day that might have otherwise been devoid of friendship. There had been something about the flex of muscle down a strong back and the unruly curl of orange hair, then, and Tobio could have slapped himself when the answer presented itself with a clarity that broke through three weeks of storm.

Because Shōyō  _ had  _ been there with a fearless smile and a simple request, one he’d repeated several times since the first day of school. Had Tobio forgotten, or never believed it in the first place? It rippled across his thoughts, quieting the waves of doubt. 

_ I’m going to play volleyball with you! _

_ I thought if you had a friend to play with, you’d be happier.  _

_ Do you think if I keep practicing, I could play with you at that level? _

_ Of course I want to play with you.  _

_ Of course.  _

**_Of course_ ** _. _

There’d never been anyone who wanted to befriend Tobio with that kind of fervency, so how could he have believed with the same kind of faith with which Shōyō did? He was driven to practice, to get better, to catch up to Tobio all so they could keep playing together. Shōyō said, when he was thinking of a future wherein he was stranded on Earth the rest of his life, that he wanted to play volleyball with Tobio if he could. Tobio had spent weeks feeling jealous and afraid of losing Shōyō that he’d blinded himself to the truth he’d been presented all along: Shōyō wanted to be with him, too. 

Tobio buried his face in his pillow. His cheeks burned, and he knew immediately that it had everything to do with the desire to hear Shōyō say it all again, say that he wanted to keep playing volleyball with him.  _ It’s more than that, _ he thought, which surprised himself with its suddenness, but the stubborn idea, now planted, refused to budge. If he allowed himself a moment of truth, then he could admit that perhaps he did want more than for Shōyō to say he’d keep playing volleyball with him. What would it be like if he were to say he’d be by his side even when volleyball wasn’t the reason? The thought caught fire to his chest and threatened to consume him, but, carefully and methodically, he boxed it in until it was little more than a smoldering idea. Present and warm, but easily set aside until he was ready. He couldn’t afford a distraction when there were tangible problems with which he could wrestle. 

First, he was going to get this set right. Tobio knew now how serious Shōyō had been about playing volleyball- playing volleyball  _ with him _ . He swallowed as the embers of  _ moremoremore  _ flickered, reminded them to be still. The set. He would give Hinata the set he deserved, and then he would think about more. 

* * *

After weeks of avoidance, of not knowing what to say, Tobio’s realization the night before made it almost embarrassingly easy to break the silence. “I can’t practice with you tonight, Hinata,” he murmured, spinning a ball in hand. Seeing the quick frustration alight on the shorter boy’s face and the shock on Yachi’s, he added quickly, “Because I haven’t gotten the set right yet. Me screwing up over and over isn’t worth your time. You should go do something else and Yachi can toss for me.” 

He studied the alien’s face carefully as he processed, and Tobio prayed it was enough. He hoped Suga was right, that Shōyō seemed to understand what he meant when the words didn’t come out quite right. Then Shōyō’s face lit up in a wide smile that he turned into a cocky smirk which set Tobio’s heart fluttering in relief. “Well,” the redhead mused with poorly feigned nonchalance, “You’d better hurry up and get it right for me!” 

Tobio was neither sure he’d ever been more relieved, nor that the warm, dizzying giddiness that accompanied Shōyō’s declaration was solely relief. However, he wasn’t going to miss the chance to banter for the first time in weeks because he was lost in thought. Like they’d never fought at all, he grabbed at Shōyō’s hair and called him an idiot, and Shōyō laughed and pushed him off screaming. Even Yachi giggled at their antics and offered her encouragement. 

Unlike every other time since their fight, seeing Shōyō skip off moments later to practice elsewhere ignited the spark Tobio hadn’t realized had dimmed.

“I’m glad you said something,” Yachi blurted once Shōyō was out of sight. As was typical, she looked nervous to have spoken up, but rather than stutter into silence, she gulped and continued, “Shō-kun didn’t seem quite the same while you two weren’t talking.” 

“Really?” he marveled. Every time he’d seen him, he’d looked fine. 

But the tiny manager nodded enthusiastically. “He said…” she trailed off, chewing her lip, her expressive face clearly wondering if she should say next what she had planned. “Well, he said you were his partner,” she concluded with a soft smile. “So I think he probably missed you.” 

A wobbly, small, but altogether pleased smile worked its way onto Tobio’s face. Yachi picked up a ball and beamed. 

* * *

Tobio remembered the first time Shōyō made him set for him. Tobio had been full of misgivings whereas Shōyō possessed not a shred of doubt. After a couple weeks of knowing him, after never playing before, Shōyō believed that Tobio was every bit as skilled as he’d boasted. He’d leapt knowing that Tobio was going to put the ball up for him and do it well. 

Tobio thought he’d been in control, but he could see it now as Shōyō soared above the net: Shōyō had always been dragging him along. Coach Ukai had told them not to do the new quick, but there was electricity between them and Shōyō made the jump like the energy possessed him.  _ You can feel it, right? _ Shōyō’s amber eyes seemed to say.  _ This time? _

“Yeah,” Tobio whispered to himself as the ball nestled for a split second against his fingertips and rolled off them towards his partner. He knew it was perfect as it left his hands, could see it play out before Hinata’s palm even connected-

It slammed into the court behind Fukurōdani‘s setter before the opposing team had even begun to move, before the entire gym had even remembered to breathe. Tobio ripped his gaze from the rolling ball to meet Shōyō’s. He wasn’t sure who shouted first but suddenly Shōyō had jumped at him, fingers splayed for a double high-five and screamed, “I knew it was gonna work!”

It was like being hit with a truck when Shōyō’s fingers entwined with his. The excitement and pride the alien exuded flowed into Tobio, but he could scarcely tell where his feelings began and Shōyō’s ended. The redhead was bouncing in place, still clinging to Tobio’s hands when abruptly he stopped and shuffled back, letting their hands fall. “You’re not mad, right?” the smaller boy questioned. 

Ah, stupid face. He must have been frowning. “You know Coach said no quick,” he scolded to buy time for the flush of exhilaration to leave his cheeks. 

“You felt it though, right?” Shōyō echoed, resuming his energetic bounce. “Like it was just going to work this time! Man, that felt amazing!” Amber eyes lit up with his unconstrained smile. “ _ You’re  _ awesome! So Awesome! Really Awesome!” 

_ Oh, right,  _ Tobio dismayed as the ensuing cascade of compliments shut him down. The quick had worked, undoing with its success the solid compartmentalization of his feelings. Walls he’d constructed last night to contain the fire of dangerous ideas cracked, and one very dangerous thought slipped through it like an ember that would eventually turn into an uncontrollable blaze:  _ You like him a little too much, don’t you?  _

* * *

Hours later, after the game was lost and their barbecue lunch was eaten, the Karasuno team filed onto the bus, sleepy and stuffed. Tobio had been looking forward to sleeping off the trip, if only to avoid the unconfirmed label he’d slapped on his warm feelings for his alien volleyball partner. Interhigh preliminaries were literally around the corner, and even if the idea hinted at something true, there were a myriad of reasons why he simply couldn’t spare the energy to deal with it. He’d told himself he’d sort it out when the work was done, but it wasn’t as if the new quick has been successful more than once...

He didn’t know he’d dozed off until his name was being whispered in his ear. Tobio jolted upright and narrowly avoided headbutting Shōyō in the face as the alien dodged just in time. “Quiet!” the redhead shushed before Tobio could demand to know what the hell he was doing by waking him up. “We haven’t talked in weeks and I have to tell you something.”

“It couldn’t wait until later?” Tobio grumbled. 

“Three weeks, Tobio!” 

Tobio groaned but rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What is it?” 

Shōyō popped his head over the seats to verify the inattention of their friends, then squished himself closer than Tobio’s freshly confronted feelings preferred. “My ship's communicator has been trying to get a message.” 

Any traces of sleep vanished and Tobio, too, double checked that no one was listening. “What do you mean trying?” he asked, voice low but with surprise barely contained. “What kind of message? From who?” 

“I don’t know,” Shōyō answered, pressing close enough that their foreheads nearly touched. “I think it’s multiple messages but the signal is too weak to come in. I’ve just been getting a lot of static on screen and no audio.” 

“So, what are you going to do?” Tobio frowned. 

Shōyō paused to grope at the side of the seat and pulled up his tattered messenger bag. “It turns out that Kenma’s friend Kuroo is really smart,” he explained as he set a book in his lap titled  _ High Performance Radios: A Guide.  _ “I mean, I didn’t tell them why I wanted to know, but he said at one point this week that it was possible to make a radio’s reception better with an antenna.” 

Tobio squinted. “Like a TV?” 

“Yeah!” Shōyō exclaimed, too loudly. Tobio flinched and Shōyō mumbled an apology. “Yeah,” he repeated at a whisper. “I’ve already figured out which part I need to boost and I built the antenna.” He patted the book reverently. “It’s different, of course, but I think it’s the same idea. Once I get back, I just need to follow the instructions to weld it, go up to space so there’s less interference and  _ bam _ .”

“That sounds... hard.” 

Shōyō worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “A little, maybe. I’m hoping I can do it. No, I will. When I figure it out, will you watch the message with me?” 

Tobio glimpsed the boy’s short fingers twisting in his lap. Tentatively, he stretched his own, then resisted the urge Shōyō had conditioned in him over several months for physical contact. “Yeah, I’ll watch it,” he muttered instead, which netted him a relieved smile. “I… bet it’s your family,” he offered. “Who else would know how to reach your ship?”

Rather than an anxious frown like moments before, Shōyō bit back a smile and admitted, “I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but, yeah. No one else would have to code for my communicator.”

It was like before their fight, where everything in Tobio screamed at him to cling because if he didn’t he would lose his closest friend. But that hadn’t worked and he’d done it wrong, so he forced himself to inhale, slowly, then exhale. “I’m happy for you,” he said instead. On some level that wasn’t worrying about the sudden possibility that the alien would be leaving Earth altogether, he supposed he was happy. 

“Maybe you can meet my parents,” the alien gushed. “I mean, I guess I’d have to translate. And we can tell them all about volleyball and school! Ah, man, I wonder how old my sister is by now. Time gets weird when you’re travelling FTL.” Shōyō looked pleased if his bright smile was any indication, and this time he nudged his knee against Tobio’s. “Would you want to?”

It was impossible not to be infected by Shōyō’s cheer. “Sure. Be ready for them to hear about the time you served into my head. And all the times you’ve received with your face.”

“To-bi-o,” Shōyō whined. Tobio smirked as the drawn out complaint was accompanied by a light barrage of punches. 

When the alien had settled with a pout, Tobio asked, “Why didn’t you tell Kozume about… you?”

Shōyō quirked an copper brow at the stoic setter. “Kenma is a good friend, but that’s  _ best friend _ clearance level. Stupid question, Yamayama-kun.”

Tobio failed spectacularly to keep his ferocious grin under control, and if the alien noticed, he mercifully didn’t tease. “You’re stupid,” he argued back, though the words held no weight whatsoever. “When are you going to do your radio thing?”

The redhead glared, torn between continuing their petty name-calling and answering the question, but settled for the latter. “Tonight, of course! I’m dying to know!”

“Should I…” Tobio paused, unsure, but three weeks absence made him a little more bold. “Should I go with you when we get back?”

The way Shōyō’s face lit up at the suggestion was answer enough. 

* * *

“Ok, so. I’ll get up there, then I’ll go out a ways past all the satellites then walk out to set up the antenna.” Shōyō explained, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Beside him, Tobio nodded stiffly, the flashlight he was holding against the exterior of the ship for Shōyō to work bouncing along the hull. “You sure you don’t wanna come?” the alien asked with a sly grin. “I’ve got room for a co-pilot.”

Tobio appraised the little vessel which was Shōyō’s spaceship. The outside was smooth and curving, a look that implied futuristic and streamlined. With its deep navy color, it was almost impossible to see hidden in the trees as it was. It didn’t seem that big, not much wider than the Sakanoshita corner store, but it looked squat, like he would be a hand or so short of grazing the ceiling with his head. Tobio wouldn’t have considered himself claustrophobic, but the idea of sitting in that little bucket and it taking him  _ into space _ was too much. With a decisive shake of his head, he answered, “Hell no.” 

It didn’t sour the alien’s mood at all and he shrugged. “Next time, then. You got your phone? It might be a bit of a wait.” 

“Why wouldn’t I have my phone, idiot?” Tobio retorted. “Like I’d hike out into the woods without my phone. That’s how people get murdered.” 

“Wah, don’t get murdered while I’m gone!”

“Shut up and go already!”

Shōyō flashed him a cheeky salute and scrambled around the back- was that the back?- of the ship to the softly illuminated open hatch on the side. Tobio trudged behind to meet his friend by the door. “OK, so you probably want to stand back at least one ship length,” the alien called as he disappeared into a room visible right off the ship port. When he re-emerged he was hopping into a white jumpsuit like the one he’d been wearing when they’d first met, only this one looked thicker, stiffer, and had connected gloves and shoes. “Look at this!” he groaned, holding aloft his arms. The gloves- made for only three fingers- flopped at a weird angle over his stubby human hands. 

“Are you going to be able to attach the antenna once you're up there?” Tobio frowned and squished the slack fabric until he found resistance at Shōyō’s fingers. 

“I think so?” Shōyō said, though his tone ended as a question. 

The grimace on Tobio’s face intensified and he groused, “Don’t explode, or whatever happens if your suit comes off. We still have to go to nationals.” 

“Wow, you really only have one brain cell.” 

“Shut the fuck up and go. I want to go to sleep.” 

This time, rather than a teasing retort, Shōyō gave him a serious nod. Then abruptly he threw his arms around Tobio’s and clarified, “Just in case,” before dashing into his ship. With a small grin, he waved and the door slid down behind him. 

For a moment the tall boy was rooted in place, but the sudden hum of the ship coming to life snapped him from his reverie. He scrambled back several steps, and watched awed as the ship began to rise. Several rings of vivid blue shone from the bottom and back of the ship- the engines, he guessed. The little vessel began to tilt up and up. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Tobio fell back with a gasp as the ship took off with a quiet  _ boom.  _

Well. That was something. Tobio was sure he would need several more minutes before he would be able to stand again. Rather than fight it, he settled into the clover and pulled out his phone. 8:45pm. If HInata wasn’t back in an hour, then he’d start to worry. 

As he waited, he marveled at how easy their interactions had been since reconciliation. Things had gone back to how they were before: the banter, walking home together,  _ talking  _ in general. There was a difference in Tobio’s perception of it, of course. Before he might’ve felt just as thrilled or annoyed by the things Hinata said or did, but now after his partial revelation he wondered what it meant. Did he like the boy- no,  _ alien-  _ more than he should? Even alone he shook his head hard like it would clear the notion. 

Tobio hasn’t had a friend so close to him ever, which did little to help him clarify his own feelings. If this was how friendship felt he couldn’t be sure, and even less so if it were… more. It was odd enough that after several awkward, hormonal teenage years, he might’ve developed his first crush on a boy. It was stranger still that he wasn’t even  _ human.  _

With a groan he dropped his face to his drawn up knees. This introspective analysis was less helpful than movies implied. As he’d decided before, he couldn’t spare the energy to figure this out, not with prelims coming up. He unlocked his phone and navigated to his favorite sports magazine website, tensions melting away in moments. By the time he noted it was past 9:00, he jolted upright -stumbling after sitting so long- and craned his face to the sky. 

He told himself to worry after an hour, but in actuality he was helpless. Helpless and anxious. Maybe Shōyō poked a hole in his suit trying to attach the antenna and… blown up? Maybe Tobio should Google what happens in that case- but, no, he thought. That would do nothing but make him worry more. The idiot had said it wouldn’t take very long at all; they did not become friends again just so Tobio could lose him in space.

The tall boy had never been so relieved, then, to see a shimmer in the sky growing rapidly larger. That  _ must _ be his resident alien, confirmed as the ship descended gracefully between the trees. Tobio rushed to the barely visible outline of the door, but after a few moments, nothing happened. He frowned at the ship’s side, then pounded on the side with an echoing clang. “Hinata! You better not be dead!” 

He smirked as finally the door swung open, but the smile slid away at the sight of his tear-stricken friend. “O-oh, shit. Are you-?” Tobio started, but he lost his breath in a huff when the redhead launched himself at Tobio’s chest with a mangled sob. 

With no idea what to say, the taller boy stood stiff, arms at his sides while Shōyō cried into his shirt. After a moment, he offered a tentative back pat and stammered, “Um. Was it not your family?”

The alien sniffed heartily and managed, “I-it was my sister.”

Clearly there was more to the story than that, or why would the boy be crying? Tobio stayed quiet, waiting, and finally the other gasped out between cries, “She was a… kid when I left but... now she’s my age! And…”

It overcame Tobio as it usually did, a surge of emotion, a furious, red wave so out of place coming from the cheerful alien. Dread welled up in his gut, because that kind of anger could only mean one thing…

“The Strik are still looking for me,” Shōyō spat. “They’re coming to Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello there plot >:)
> 
> Sorry Kenma. I actually really like you as a character.


	7. Light Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing alright and staying healthy!

With more aggression than intended, Tobio seized Shōyō’s shoulders. “Let me see the message,” he ordered. 

After a pause to wipe his reddened face, Shōyō nodded and boarded his ship, returning with what looked like a tablet of thin glass. It lit in his hands, showing a paused video with an overlay of symbols Tobio had never seen. A few presses later and there was a girl who looked just like Shōyō on screen. Like he did before: wide, completely dark eyes; button nose; mass of curly orange hair. Heaving a shaky sigh, the alien pressed play. 

She started talking, rapid fire, and Shōyō translated, “‘Brother, I hope this message gets to you. Mom and Dad said they sent you to Earth because it’s compatible with our natural physiology, so you better not be dead. I wish you’d respond so I know you’re not. This is probably the 5th message I’ve sent-‘”

“Wait, wait,” Tobio interrupted. Shōyō paused. “Did you get the other messages?” 

“Only one other, but it was just a partial,” the redhead explained. “The rest must have been lost.”

The taller boy nodded, though he didn’t really understand. “Right, continue.”

“‘I guess for you it hasn’t been that long. But here we’ve been fighting Strik occupation for about seven years.’” Shoyo’s voice wavered as he pressed on above his sister’s voice. “‘I hope this message out of all of them gets to you, because it’s the last one I’ll send. I’m sorry, but the Strik found out you’re on Earth…’” In the video, the girl’s alien face screwed up in a grimace and tears spilled over her cheeks, and beside Tobio, his friend mimicked the expression but he choked out, “‘I wish you could feel how sorry I am. It’s my fault. They tracked the signal from my last message. They sent over half their fleet to find you. I don’t know when they’ll reach you because I don’t even know when you are. Maybe dad would have figured out the timing but he’s been missing for such a long time now. Mom and I are doing OK. Be careful. We love you-’” Shōyō burst again into sobs that drowned out the short remainder of the message. 

Wordlessly, Tobio set an arm over the alien’s shoulders into which he leaned gratefully. For a moment the taller boy was quiet, absorbing the warning’s content. Then, slowly, he asked, “Hey. Why are the Strik so bent on finding you?” To his surprise, the redhead stiffened and fell silent, a move telling of his discomfort, and Tobio interjected, “Don’t lie to me.” 

He thought Shōyō might opt for silence as he had done in the past, but the boy slumped, giving in. “It’s because of my gift,” he whispered. 

It was probably good that Shōyō couldn’t see Tobio’s face, which became a skeptical frown. “Your glowy thing?”

“That’s… not all it is,” Shōyō admitted. 

Tobio could feel his grip tightening on his friend’s arm so he pushed him out far enough to make eye contact, which the other promptly dropped. “Hinata,” he warned, voice low. “What the hell does that mean?”

The redhead chewed nervously on his fingernail and muttered around it, “It might be easier to show you. Cover your ears.” 

Past the point of asking questions, Tobio glared but did so. Shōyō slunk several feet away, looking back once to make sure Tobio had stayed put. Shōyō clasped his palms together and when he pulled them away, a soft glowing orb hovered between them. This, Tobio had seen, but the orb began to burn brighter and brighter, until he was squinting against what seemed like a sun. He made out Shōyō’s silhouetted arm as it raised, sun in palm, then it fired off into the closest tree. Tobio realized why he’d told him to cover his ears: there was a deep, echoing _CRACK_ as the tree splintered into a million pieces. 

Tobio couldn’t even manage a single curse when Shōyō sheepishly shuffled back to him, and merely stared at him, mouth agape. 

“Yeah,” the alien affirmed. “They found out I can do that.” 

“What the hell?” Tobio finally croaked. 

Hinata flashed a lopsided smile, but with his swollen, red-rimmed eyes it only succeeded in looking wistful. “I can absorb energy from stars and channel it like that. Well, imagine that but bigger. Planet-sized.” He glanced over his shoulder at the smoldering remains of the tree he exploded. “Your star is really big so it’s easy to accumulate that kind of energy. Mostly it’s just like you’ve seen: a little glowy if I get too worked up. Otherwise it’s not hard to control.” 

Tobio ran his trembling hands through his hair. It had been some time since he’d last felt it, but the overpowering sense that he was in over his head began to creep into his mind. “H-hey, she said they’re c-coming to _Earth_. What are we going to do!”

It was Hinata’s turn to grab Tobio by the arms, and he gave him a small shake. “I don’t know yet, but I’m going to figure it out!” the smaller boy assured, his tearful and shaky presence replaced by the one of implacable determination. “Don’t freak out! I’m gonna fix it!” 

“Holy shit,” Tobio murmured. “How are we supposed to even think about prelims now? What if they show up before we even get to nationals?” Shōyō stared at him blankly before he burst into laughter. “Shut up! I mean it!” Tobio shouted, grabbing his friend by the hair for good measure. 

“I know! That’s why it’s so funny!” the redhead gasped between giggles. “I can’t believe you. One track mind.” 

WIth a huff, Tobio stomped off in what he hoped was the direction of the park, thankfully joined by a still chuckling Shōyō. Soon enough, though, they drifted into uneasy silence. Alien terrorists that had been a sort of vague part of Shōyō’s backstory were now a concrete threat. Tobio, who had thought his handle on this extraterrestrial situation was pretty strong, couldn’t help but acknowledge how ill prepared he was for this kind of news. It brought to mind the words from the very first message he’d received from the alien blogger months ago: how if the alien threat had found their way to Earth, maybe he should consider telling someone. But _SetinSpace94_ only said that because it was a hypothetical situation. He didn’t know that Shōyō was a real person, with real feelings, a life, people that cared about him. Surely that changed things?

Tobio hadn’t returned a message in several weeks, but if there were any situation which warranted it, it was this. 

***

After both he and Shōyō were fussed over by Tobio’s mother, who was pleased at the return of her son’s best friend, the two trudged upstairs to the peace of his room. Once Shōyō was asleep, Tobio pulled his laptop under his sheets and began to write. 

_SetinSpace94,_

_Hey I have a question that’s really important. In your first email you said something like how you’d tell someone if you found out alien bad guys were coming to Earth because of your alien friend. But would you do it if your alien friend was your best friend? I mean like, the only best friend you had. And you really like them and don’t want anything to happen to them. Would you still do it? You wouldn’t, right?_

Normally, Tobio would agonize over the contents before sending, but he clicked send without a second glance and slid his computer onto the floor. He needed guidance, but feared Shōyō’s reaction if he were to bring it up with him. _Hey, Hinata. Maybe you should consider turning yourself over to the government so they can figure out what to do?_ Yeah, even in his mind Tobio could see how that would play out. He wasn’t going to blurt stuff like that without a solid plan. More than that, though, Tobio didn’t want Shōyō to do it anyway. The idea of Shōyō being _gone_ was unacceptable. They would just have to find another solution. 

Tobio’s sleep was fitful and he woke before Shōyō, though it didn’t look as though the redhead was having an easier time of it. In sleep his small features were furrowed and twitchy. His blanket was tossed aside but he curled in on himself, looking impossibly small. It was like the day where Tobio was compelled to organize Shōyō’s shabby belongings: before he realized, he’d slipped from bed and knelt beside him, pulling the blanket back over Shōyō’s sleeping form. 

Rather than return to bed, Tobio sat hunched and frowning at his friend. The wrinkles had eased from his forehead and his legs had unfurled from his chest, which had the opposite effect on Tobio. It was like fingers had wound around his heart and squeezed and he grimaced, even though he’d recognized long ago that Shōyō convinced him to do a number of things he never would’ve imagined. This protectiveness would never allow him to let Shōyō go, of that he was sure. 

A glance at his phone told Tobio it was too early even for him to start his day. Absently, he tugged at the unruly orange hair splayed about Shōyō’s pillow before shuffling back into bed himself. 

“Tobio?” Shōyō mumbled, rolling over towards the bed and bringing the blanket around him in a cocoon. 

“It looked like you were having a bad dream,” Tobio said, peering back at the redhead through the weak morning light. Warm under his covers, he shivered. 

Shōyō made a soft hum and let his unfocused eyes flutter shut, but whispered, “Thanks.” In moments he’d fallen back asleep, one small hand clutching the pillow by his face. Tobio rolled to stare at the ceiling, before the tightness in his chest never faded. When next he woke it was because an alien was prodding relentlessly at his side. “Time is it?” he murmured sleepily. 

“Eight-ish,” Shōyō replied without ceasing his poking onslaught. An annoyed growl was all the warning the smaller boy received before Tobio grabbed the attacking appendage and pulled, sending Shōyō tumbling off balance on top of him. Shōyō squeaked but surprised as he was by the counter attack, he was helpless as Tobio jammed his own fingers into his sides. 

“I’m not even out of bed and you’re already fucking annoying,” Tobio hissed while Shōyō stuttered out breathless laughs. 

“Why- can’t I- stop laughing!” Shōyō giggled between helpless gasps as he writhed under the taller boy’s hands. 

“It’s called being ticklish, dumbass,” Tobio answered, giving the alien one last prod and shoving his face into the bed for good measure. “And don’t even think about it,” he interjected in warning at the sight of Shōyō’s mischievous grin peeking up from his pillow. “I’ll fucking destroy you.” The disheveled boy sat up, which revealed a face flushed and grinning. It was a better look, Tobio decided, than the anxious, crying face he’d been wearing before bed. However, it brought with it the questions Tobio was trying to avoid, so he unceremoniously shoved Shōyō off the bed with his foot. 

“You’re the worst,” Shōyō chirped from the floor. “Let’s go play volleyball! The start of the tournament is just a few days away!”

The proposition perked Tobio up instantly, but he deflated almost as quickly. “What about… you know, the news from the message? Shouldn’t we do something about that?” 

Shōyō, though, just waved a dismissive hand and informed, “I’m coming up with a plan. I told you I’d fix it, didn’t I? Let’s just worry about qualifiers for now.”

Suspicious, Tobio fixed him with a pointed stare, but when the little redhead didn’t waver, he capitulated easily. “Fine. I’ll get dressed.” 

With a cheer Shōyō bounded for his phone and announced, “I’m gonna see if anyone else is able to join. Is that OK?” 

“Oi, if you’re texting everyone, see if Daichi or Suga can open the gym.” 

“Got it!” 

A knock on the door interrupted their tasks, and Tobio’s mother called from the other side, “Are you up? I made breakfast if you want to eat together before I go to work.” 

“Coming, Kageyama-san!” Shōyō answered for both of them. Without wasting a moment, the shorter boy began pushing a pajama-clad Tobio towards the door singing a gleeful song about breakfast food. Choosing to soak in the feeling of small, warm hands on his back instead, Tobio only griped a little as he let Shōyō push him towards the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you two stopped fighting,” Tobio’s mother advised once they had helped sit down with a simple breakfast. “It’s good to see you Shōyō-kun.” 

Beaming, the redhead agreed over a mouthful of rice. “Tobio was just being stubborn,” he said with a daring grin. 

“No I wasn’t!” Tobio barked back. “I made up a whole new set for you!”

“And you did it all without complaining once.” 

“You f- uh, _idiot_.”

“Wait,” Mayumi interjected. “You two were fighting because of volleyball?” Both boys had the decency to look sheepish at the ridiculous- but correct- observation. The woman cracked a smile that turned into a soft laugh. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” 

“Hinata wanted to learn something completely new three weeks before Spring Interhigh qualifiers,” Tobio complained.

“It worked out!”

Mayumi smiled at them as they bickered, then collected their dishes as they finished eating- still arguing. “Well, if you’re going to practice, remember to lock up the house. I’ve got to get to work.” 

“OK, Mom,” both boys chorused immediately. Tobio smirked, elbowing a mortified looking Shōyō in the side, while Tobio’s mother looked amused at the slipup. As if to even the score, she ruffled Tobio’s hair and pressed an exaggerated kiss to his forehead that had him grimacing and Shōyō laughing. 

“‘Mom,’” Tobio mocked once the house matriarch left. 

Shōyō narrowed a glare at him and snapped, “Shut up,” before stomping upstairs. Tobio chuckled to himself as he followed. A light flush had spread across Shōyō’s chest and neck, visible now that he pulled his sleep shirt off and tossed it into the corner of Tobio’s room that he’d claimed for himself. It drew in the taller boy’s curious gaze: it suddenly seemed vitally important to note that Shōyō’s blush wasn’t confined only to his cheeks. He wanted to chase the splotchy outline of it with his fingers, from the other boy’s neck to the where the redness faded into his copper hair. The thought burned him with its sudden arrival, making his own face tingle with warmth, and he whipped around to face the wall as he finished dressing for the day. When Tobio finished, he’d conquered the brief loss of control and nudged a quiet Shōyō who sat on his bed tapping away at his phone. “Anyone else coming?” he asked. 

“Pretty much everyone. Captain said we might as well make it a team training!” Shōyō announced, snapping the phone shut. “Ready?” 

* * *

It felt good to play. Playing always let Tobio forget anything troubling him; there was no room for anything else once he was on the court. They practiced right up until the first round of qualifiers, then swept Ohgiminami and Kakugawa High in two sets each. Tobio was so caught up in the thrill that the alien threat over which he’d been so worried before slipped his mind completely.

But their preliminary victories meant that school was starting for the fall, and the next time Tobio booted his computer, there were two emails waiting for him which reminded him of the impending disaster. 

_*~Vollleyball96-kun~*_

_Good to hear from you again. I do have to ask though… Are we still talking about something made up? I’ll admit, the urgency in your last email made me a little nervous. You should know that if there’s anyone in the world who will believe you, it’s me! (P:)_

_Regardless, I think what you’re getting at is just a classic problem of communication. If your scenario is the case, then you should be able to talk to your best friend about anything. Not to say it’s easy, but you have to respect them and the fact that it is related directly to them. That’s just normal friendship stuff._

_I truly think alien-chan would eventually come to terms with the fact that they have to fix the situation since they caused it. You’ve described a pretty collectivistic societal structure not unlike Japan’s, after all, so I think their sense of duty would outweigh their personal desires. That may not be the answer you want to hear, but if alien-chan decides to fix the problem by doing something like telling someone about their existence, then you have to respect the choice they make. Understand?_

_Vollleyball96-kun:_

_It’s been a few days, so I hope my last email didn’t offend you. You can feel free to argue with me, in case you’re wondering~_   
  


Each word dropped like a weight in Tobio’s stomach, because deep down he knew the blogger was right. The Spring Interhigh qualifiers had been a welcome reprieve, but he needed to talk to Hinata before too much time had passed. The alien boy had seemed untroubled over the last week, and Tobio rued that he would be the one to destroy that peace again. When Shōyō came over so they could cram in the last bit of summer homework together, Tobio brought up the topic like ripping off a bandaid. 

“What are you planning with the Strik?” he asked bluntly. It startled Shōyō who jumped in place and inadvertently threw his pencil across the room. 

“I told you that you didn’t have to worry about it,” the redhead reminded, though there was a sharp note to his voice that hinted at something more than his unconcerned shrug implied. 

The tone set his teeth on edge. “I want to know,” Tobio demanded. 

“Tobio-” 

“We’re partners, right?” he blurted. “If you’re planning something, shouldn’t you tell me?”

Shōyō looked torn; he opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything. Cautiously, he began, “You’re my… friend, Tobio. I don’t want to make you worry if you don’t have to. Especially since the next tournament is in a month. You’ve got enough to think about.” 

Tobio had never had an easier time begging, “Hinata, please.” 

The other boy’s defenses crumbled: he slumped, dropped his eyes to his entwined hands before blindly reaching for Tobio’s. “I’m leaving after the October matches are done,” he confessed. “I’ll send a signal straight towards where the fleet has to be coming from. The Strik will be sure to intercept it and follow. They’ll never make it to Earth.” 

Though the words made Tobio recoil, he grasped tightly to Hinata’s hand. “No,” he stated. He had to swallow hard, and found that his vision was blurry. “No, you’re not.” He heard the redhead snort softly, then small hands pinched his cheeks.

“See, that’s why I wasn’t going to say anything,” Shōyō teased, though his own voice was cracked and low. 

“It’s worse that you weren’t going to say anything!” Tobio snapped, turning his face. Shōyō touched his arm but he jerked away. 

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” the alien said. Tobio could hear him shuffling, then Hinata’s back was pressing into his. “And I’m not letting another planet get destroyed because of me.” 

Tobio drew his knees to his chest and hid his face. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, so hard he was sure Hinata could feel it. “I have to tell you something,” he admitted. It was the least he owed his friend. He inhaled, exhaled, then said, “I asked someone on the internet what I should do.” 

Shōyō pulled away from him but Tobio didn’t dare lift his head. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“They have a blog about aliens and I emailed them asking them what’d they do if it were real- I said it wasn’t real, just a story-and they were me. If there were aliens coming to Earth after their best friend,” Tobio babbled, trying to ignore the building panic as he confessed. “I’ve never had friends before and I didn’t know what to say but I just didn’t want anything to happen to you and now you’re saying you’re _leaving_ and-” He fell silent as Shōyō’s arms slid around his shoulders which began to shake. “Aren’t you _mad_?” he cried.

“Yes, you giant jerk,” Shōyō growled. “I… wish you hadn’t said anything. Of course I’m mad.” He butted the back of Tobio’s head as if that would convey his anger, but he also let out a quiet laugh. “But you’re so stupid I guess I’m not surprised.” 

Tobio was quiet, then sputtered, “Sh-shut up!” 

In spite of that, his friend tightened his grip. “Nope. You’re definitely stupid. _Bakageyama_.” He snickered at his own portmanteau of Tobio’s name, then sobered. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Aah, so dumb.”

“I know,” Tobio admitted. Afraid Shōyō would let go if he said anything more, if he moved or breathed wrong, Tobio fell quiet. Instead, he reached up to grasp the alien’s arms, holding him in place. Eventually, though, Tobio knew he had to ask, and whispered, “Are you still going to be my friend?”

Shōyō sighed and his head fell heavy against Tobio’s shoulders. “You’re still my best friend, because I know you didn’t do this to hurt me. It still kinda hurts, though. That part feels complicated. But yeah, you’re still my friend, Tobio. Ah! As punishment you have to to let me read what you wrote.”

Tobio nodded, the squeeze of Shōyō’s arms a reassurance that replaced the anxiety that had built up during their conversation. He would’ve agreed to anything if it would’ve ensured Shōyō’s continued friendship. He was all too aware of what it was like to lose it. With an uncharacteristic gentleness that stemmed from gratefulness, Tobio tilted his head to the side so it rested against Shōyō’s arm. They stayed that way until Tobio was certain the lump in his throat had subsided enough to talk, and he murmured, “Do your Link thing.” 

“Wha? Why?” 

_Because I want to feel close to you right now,_ was too much for Tobio to say, so he settled for, “Because I said.” 

Shōyō snorted, then withdrew his arms so he could uncurl from the awkward position. He sprawled on his back, then patted the spot next to him expectantly, leaving his palm up in invitation. Emotionally exhausted and any hope for school work abandoned, Tobio joined him without argument. He bumped his longer fingers against his friend’s, and relished the feeling as Shōyō slid their calloused palms together. 

It _was_ complicated. He could feel Shōyō’s annoyance and the tinge of betrayal which made his heart drop. But it was accompanied by the image of himself hiding his face in his knees, the feelings of relief, optimism and something else he couldn’t name, warm and happy. Involuntarily he squeezed the other boy’s hand tighter. In return, he felt a curious and concerned prodding at the edge of his thoughts, then he shuddered as Shōyō prodded through the cracks in his walls. Hesitant, Tobio imagined telling Shōyō how sorry he was and recalled, more than sorry, how scared he had been. Scared of telling the truth, scared of his friend leaving. His chest throbbed painfully as Shōyō’s words echoed inside him, _I’m leaving after October, I’m leaving, I’m leaving._

He turned his head when Shōyō sniffled and saw tears glimmering in his amber eyes. The warmth in his hand receded slightly as the alien severed their emotional Link, but was replaced when the other boy sidled up to him and nestled his head against his side. 

“Only because you feel like a big crybaby,” Shōyō muttered as an explanation which did nothing to calm the rapid increase of Tobio’s heartbeat.

“You’re the one crying, dumbass,” he retorted, though he, very slowly, let his hand come to rest on Shōyō’s back.

“I’m not- wait, we’ve had this argument before.” 

Tobio snorted. That had been a while ago. For once, he wasn’t going to press the thought. 

They laid entwined for several minutes, silence only punctuated by their breathing. “Maybe we can wait until after Nationals,” Shōyō whispered finally. 

If a few more months was all he could get, Tobio was going to take it. “We’ll figure it out,” he slurred drowsily, and Shōyō hummed in agreement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alien Dad might’ve been able to do the theoretical math on that timing, but Kittytoastnjam sure as hell cannot!


	8. Novae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little short, sorry!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has actually read this so far! Y'all my 'lil nerds, love you people!!

It seemed Shōyō was Tobio’s equal when it came to denial. The redhead was fiercely committed to the idea that volleyball was all that mattered in the weeks leading up to their October qualifiers. It wasn’t something about which Tobio was going to complain, though, since it meant their new quick was at an acceptable 70% success rate. He was especially distracted when Shōyō revealed where he’d been disappearing to after evening practices by bringing him along to the old Coach Ukai’s small training court. 

After that day in Tobio’s room, the impending but still undetermined timing of the Strik invasion wasn’t discussed again, but it didn’t mean it never crossed Tobio’s mind. Watching Shōyō soar weightless right before a spike was especially at fault for reminding him that, one day sooner than he’d like, Shōyō was going to leave. Seeing the other boy’s bright and unwavering grin was somewhat sufficient for drowning any hint of despair the thought might have caused him otherwise. If Shōyō said he was going to stay longer and agreed with Tobio that they’d search for a different solution, then there was simply no reason _ not  _ to redirect his focus back to volleyball until the time Shōyō was ready. Besides, there had never been a time in their friendship where Tobio didn’t eventually follow along with Shōyō’s whims. 

“You know our first match is tomorrow, right Spaceyama?”

Tobio snapped back into reality when Shōyō waved a hand in his face. “Of course I know that, dumbass,” he grumbled. The windows of the gym were barely letting any light in. 

“So, I said maybe we should stop a little early today. Get some extra sleep and stuff,” Shōyō advised. “You didn’t even set the last toss I threw you,” he added with a pointed look at the ball Tobio hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“Oh.” 

The alien set a hand on his hip. “‘Oh?’” he echoed with an incredulous raised brow. “What’s wrong with you? Are you scared about our matches?” 

Tobio shrugged and threw the ball with a perfect arc into the bin. “A little. If we have to play Seijoh. You better help me pick all this up.” 

Scrambling to scoop up wayward balls, Shōyō replied, “You’ll be great! Way better than The Grand King! Plus, you’ve got me.” 

“Grand King?” 

“Because you’re the King, and you learned from him so-“

“You’re so stupid.” Hearing Shōyō call him King did make him puff up a little though; the moniker was only tolerable coming from him. “You better not call him that to his face. It’ll only make him more horrible.” 

Shōyō chuckled, “But you don’t mind if I call you King even if it makes you all  _ hehehe.”  _ His sound effect was accompanied by an accurate caricature of Tobio’s face: overly furrowed brows, a smug grin, and orange hair plastered flat against his face by small hands. 

“I’m not tossing to you tomorrow at all.” 

“Wah, Tobio! It was a joke! A joke! Toss to me!” Shōyō begged as he jumped to cling to the setter’s arm. 

The taller boy might have drawn out his faux deliberations to keep the other boy from letting go. As soon as he agreed- with a warning not to miss- Shōyō sprang into the air with palms wide. But when he came back down to Earth, his expression was serious. “Tobio. I’m not gonna mess up. Not like the time we played Seijoh. So don’t regret setting to me.” 

“I won’t,” Tobio replied automatically. “My sets are so good it’ll be impossible for you to get blocked anyway.” 

Shōyō’s smile was so bright that Tobio prayed to whatever might be listening that he wouldn’t disappoint. 

*** 

“I should’ve made myself taller,” Shōyō complained to Tobio from the neighboring bathroom stall. 

“Don’t talk and piss at the same time, you weirdo.” 

Both fell silent until their business concluded, at which time Shōyō resumed his lamentations while they walked back to their warmup zone. “I just thought that I’d need muscle more than height! Your internet said the average height here is only 170cm; I didn’t know I’d be so behind! I mean, I can only work with the mass I have, so I had to balance it, you know?” 

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Tobio said. “I don’t think you could jump as high with less muscle, though. Is this about the two meters guy?”

“He’s almost two of me!” Shōyō cried. 

Tobio glanced at his friend, who had already started clutching his stomach again. Wow, he was really freaking out. “You’re being stupid,” the setter informed. 

“Says the tall one.” 

“Literally everyone is taller than you,” Tobio snapped. “When has it ever been a problem?” It was satisfying to see the light come on in Shōyō’s eyes, which is why, “We’re invincible, remember?” slipped out of his mouth so easily. The redhead’s smile grew excruciatingly fond in a way that made Tobio’s stomach flip like it never had for volleyball. 

Of course, Shōyō’s devious grin replaced it seconds later as he said, “It's so weird when you’re nice to me.”

“I hope you get stuck in the net and die.” 

“That’s more like it!” 

***

It turned out that Shōyō had worried for nothing, which Tobio knew from the beginning anyway. Their first round of preliminaries were successful as they handily beat Ohgiminami and Kakugawa. Even though Tobio possessed a firm belief that his role as the setter was most important, he had to admit that Hinata’s endless practicing was paying off. He’d scored the final point in their last set against Two-Meter-Guy with a block out, not their quick at all, and Tobio could see it did wonders for the short spiker’s confidence. He wasn’t going to overinflate Hinata’s ego, but he did offer an encouraging, “You’re getting better,” which left his friend grinning. 

School restarted, and it would be almost two months before their next round of games, which gave the duo the practice time they needed before facing Johzenji in October. Tobio couldn’t deny the tinge of anxiety that crept into his practice plays knowing they were in the same bracket as AobaJohsai now. His nervousness had not slipped past Shōyō either; it was his idea for Tobio to sneak out and watch Oikawa practice. Spying on the opposing setter had flipped a switch in Tobio’s brain, and he wondered if Shōyō had hazarded a guess that it might or if he just knew him that well. Oikawa  _ was good.  _ Really good. Playing with different teammates and maximizing their skill was what Oikawa excelled at, and Tobio was right to be nervous about playing him. But being reminded of Oikawa’s skill didn’t change the fact that Tobio had faith in his fledgling team. They would win even against Oikawa’s three year old volleyball empire, and he expressed as much, less eloquently, to his friend. When the redhead’s response to his assertion was a fierce, heated smile, Tobio suspected that Shōyō might’ve known the whole time that he would come to that conclusion. That he knew Tobio, what he had needed, like he was in his head, under his skin. 

Not  _ like _ he was in his head; he  _ was _ in his head. Tobio could barely stop thinking about his alien partner long enough to fall asleep, a truth especially difficult on nights where Shōyō didn’t bother returning to his ship and instead curled up on the semi-permanent futon on Tobio’s floor. Now when Tobio replayed matches and ruminated on plays, it was in reference to Hinata. He visualized the redhead on every square centimeter of the court, at each point in his jump. How fast was he moving, where would he be next? He knew when the boy was getting tired and how it affected his speed. And Tobio could envision the slight tremble in Shōyō’s thighs as a result, the sweat as it curved its way down his face, and how copper strands clung to his forehead. 

This probably wasn’t normal, he considered wearily. In fact, he knew it wasn’t, but he hesitated to define it so concretely. The truth was, though, he was disproportionately attentive to Shōyō on the court compared to Tanaka or Asahi. Not to say that he didn’t perform exactly to his role with the other two hitters, but Hinata was different. He didn’t lay in bed at night replaying on the backs of his eyelids the way Tanaka’s legs flexed, or how Asahi’s hair moved. 

_ You like him a little too much,  _ his thoughts reminded. He told himself to shut up. 

When Karasuno returned to Tokyo to train with the Fukurōdani Academy Group again in September, he didn’t spend as much time obsessing over the time Shōyō and Kenma spent together. He could still hear the redhead’s reassurance, that he and Tobio were best friends. Only Tobio knew Shōyō’s true identity, after all. However, he would still be lying to himself to say he didn’t mind barely seeing his friend on those days when they made a weekend trip to Tokyo. Part of him still wanted to drag Hinata away to a private practice where he could monopolize his time, or at least join in on their group. But the part of him that was learning to be a better friend wanted Hinata to spend all the time he wanted with  _ his  _ friends. When he knew that the alien was already feeling isolated as it was, Tobio wasn’t going to contribute to the problem. 

Having the spare time where Hinata was off practicing with others meant Tobio could practice on his own or watch the other school’s players. Sometimes, if someone asked, he would play, but only if asked. He might’ve gotten better at responding to people who talked to him first, but the idea of inserting himself into a conversation on his own was still a faraway concept. It was lucky that Karasuno’s upperclassmen were understanding and kind. If someone like Oikawa had still been his  _ senpai _ , Tobio probably would’ve kept to himself because it would be the only way to survive Oikawa’s petty jibes. When he was alone these days, Asahi might drop by to practice serves with him, or Daichi his receives. 

And not that Tobio was playing favorites, but Sugawara was the best of all of them. Suga was probably the most like Hinata: talkative and never awkward around Tobio. No matter how stiff Tobio was or what words left his mouth (usually different from the intent), the third-year took it in stride. He might rib him if Tobio said something particularly stupid, but always in a sincerly good-natured way. Unlike Hinata, however, Suga was unfairly observant.

“How’s it going, Kageyama?” Sugawara asked as he sidled onto the bench next to him. When the rookie setter didn’t answer, Suga followed Tobio’s gaze to where Hinata was taking an animated water break with Kozume and Lev. “You and Hinata aren’t fighting again, are you?” the upperclassman pressed. 

It startled Tobio and he replied with the first thing on his mind: “No, I just wonder what they talk about.”

The ashen-haired third year gave him a knowing smile. “Are you jealous?” 

“Wha- no!” Tobio blurted. “Why would I be- No. That’s crazy.” 

Suga leaned in wearing a mischievous smile. “No need to get defensive. If you’re so curious, why don’t you go over there?”

The taller boy floundered, then dropped his freshly flushed face into his hands. “I can’t.” he mumbled. “You know I suck at that kind of thing.” 

Throwing a sweaty arm over Tobio’s shoulders, Suga chuckled, “Hinata wouldn’t leave you hanging, Kageyama. Kozume and Lev are pretty nice, too, once you talk to them a little.”

Tobio nodded silently and Suga gave him a reassuring shake before letting his arm fall. Before he could leave, Tobio grabbed his sleeve, gave a furtive glance around them, and murmured, “Suga… can I ask you something? That isn’t about volleyball.” 

The upperclassman’s eyes sparkled with delight and he pressed a hand to his chest with a sigh. “This might be the happiest day of my life as a  _ senpai _ . What’s up?”

“If I was… jealous,” Tobio began slowly, his eyes on the floor, “what would that mean?”

Suga raised an eyebrow but he covered with a business-like nod. “It depends on what exactly makes you jealous. It’d make sense if you were jealous that Hinata has an easy time talking to people when it’s hard for you. Is that it?” 

Tobio hesitated. He could agree that, yes, that was exactly it and the vice-captain was very smart and could definitely leave now. Then he would never have to bring it up again, to anyone, the weird, complex tangle that had become his feelings towards Hinata. But it had been over a month now of confused internal debating, denials and compartmentalization. It wasn’t like he had no theories- because he had a pretty good idea- but having someone’s opinion would mean it was concrete. No more hiding, no more pretending. If his only remaining recourse was to face the problem head on, then he would rather have someone on his side. Tobio closed his eyes, took a breath, then looked up at Sugawara. “What if I’m jealous that it’s not me spending time with him?”

The previously confident upperclassman could not hide his surprise that time. Instead, he glanced around them again to ensure their privacy and sat back down next to Tobio. “Well, Hinata is your close friend, so, maybe that’s why?” 

Tobio couldn’t help the expression of skepticism that spread on his face. “Do you get jealous when your friends hang out with other people?”

“No,” he admitted, then after a moment’s pause, Suga dared, “Kageyama, how long have you felt this way?”

“I guess I noticed it when me and Hinata weren’t talking.” 

Sugawara chewed at one of his fingernails and tapped his feet. “You know, you do a lot for Shō when it comes to volleyball,” he pointed out. “More than the rest of the team. Not that it’s a bad thing! I just noticed, you watch him all the time. He’s the only one who can get a rise out of you, but he’s the only one who makes you want to be better, too. Right? And not just with volleyball.”

Tobio nodded. Trust Suga to just know these things without him ever having said a word. “Suga,” he intoned like he was asking a doctor to give him bad news. “Do I  _ like  _ Hinata? Like, as more than just a friend.” 

All of Suga’s breath left him in a whoosh and his cheeks pinkened at the question. “Well, I wouldn’t want to assume anything about your feelings-“ 

“Suga.”

“OK, from what I’ve seen, yeah, probably.” 

Tobio dropped his head into his arms once again and sighed, “I fucking knew it.” 

A tentative pat on Tobio’s back made him look up to his upperclassman’s softened face. “It’s OK. Not the end of the world. I doubt anyone else would have noticed or thought so.” 

“ _ You _ don’t think it’s weird?” 

“Nah. Look at him: he’s adorable.”

Tobio wrinkled his nose and glanced back to the other side of the gym, where Shōyō was being piggy-backed in circles by Lev, and couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t sure what he expected: perhaps a dramatic denial on his part, or an internal crisis, or his brain bursting into flames. Instead, putting the words to it, that, yeah, he did Like Hinata with a capital L, felt a bit like relief. The thoughts that had begged his attention from behind the walls he’d bricked up in his mind quieted, as if saying,  _ Hey, that’s all you had to do. Just acknowledge that we’re here.  _ Well, here he was, admitting that he actually had romantic feelings for his best friend, the alien. From outer space. On the run from other aliens. It figured, really, that this would be his first foray into romance. 

“Suga, have you liked anyone before?” Tobio asked. Suga had been surprisingly chill about the entire confession, so he might as well make use of his upperclassman’s wisdom. “What did you do? What should  _ I _ do?”

To his surprise, Sugawara flushed bright red and barked out a stiff, awkward laugh. “I mean, sure!” he replied with a nervous grin. “But every situation is different! I, for one, have never said anything and that’s  _ totally fine _ for me! I don’t think Hinata would be the type to take it in a bad way, but he also seems like the type who wouldn’t get it. He’s kind of…”

“An idiot.” 

“I was going to say naive, actually.” 

Tobio frowned thoughtfully. He supposed that it made sense not to say anything, like Suga said he had done. Even if Hinata probably wouldn’t be too awkward about it, it was something Tobio didn’t want to risk, not after the experience of losing Hinata’s friendship for several weeks. So he nodded solemnly at the senior who visibly relaxed- until a second later a hand clamped down on his shoulder. 

“Everything OK?” Daichi questioned as he leaned in between Suga and Tobio. “You both look red. Is it the heat? It’s not as bad as it was in July but it’s definitely still warm.” 

“Yes!” both setters yelped hurriedly. 

“Totally fine,” Sugawara assured. 

“Just really warm,” Tobio stammered. 

“So hot in here!” 

“We’re talking about volleyball.”

“A heated volleyball discussion!”

Daichi’s curious expression shifted into one of incredulity. “Um, right. Should... I ask Coach to extend the break? He was getting ready to call the next match.”

The vice-captain leapt to his feet, shrugging off Daichi’s hand from his shoulder, and laughed, “No way, I’m totally ready to go! Aren’t you Kageyama?” 

“Y-yeah!” 

“KAGEYAMA!” a familiar and enthusiastic voice screamed, and all three Karasuno players turned as Hinata whizzed by them- still on Lev’s back. 

“What the- Hinata!” Daichi snapped before chasing after the cackling pair and leaving the two setters red faced on the sideline. 

After a moment of stunned silence, Tobio ventured, “Suga, who do you-?”

“Not another word, Kageyama.”

Tobio nodded quickly, then, added, “Thanks. For not thinking I’m weird.” 

Finally, a wry smile worked its way onto the upperclassman’s face, and he teased, “Well, you are kinda weird, just not for that. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, either.” The shrill sound of the whistle ending their break pierced the noise of the gym. “You feeling up for the next match?”

Tobio’s eyes drifted to where Hinata was attempting to look contrite while being scolded by Daichi. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

* * *

If the Johzenji team was chaos personified, Wakutani South was the opposite: steady and persistent, which made them thoroughly annoying as opponents. Losing Daichi for most of the match had made it touch and go for a minute, but their second-year wing spiker Ennoshita pulled them together for the win in the third set. And Karasuno’s victories meant the second match of their second day would indeed be against AobaJohsai. 

Tobio could still, with perfect clarity, recall the sight of Oikawa looming over him as Seijoh stole the win from them. More than that, it made his stomach sour all over again to think of everything that had come after. He hated seeing Shōyō’s face contorted in disbelief and heartbreak, the team crying over dinner, and being left behind while the victors played on. 

They resolved, as a team, that it would end differently this time, and so it had. So Tobio might’ve had to literally kick Shōyō’s ass into gear early on; it had gotten them on track to win set one. As a team it was clear how much work each person had poured into the last four months. Suga subbing in with his clever plays and Yamaguchi stealing the show as a pinch server were testaments to how much they’d all grown. 

Still, there was no one else Tobio would rather put the ball up for in a crucial moment than Shōyō. He wasn’t even sure he’d been fully conscious of the choice or if it was just another moment where he’d been swept up in Shōyō’s feral energy. It didn’t cross his mind until later how it badly might’ve played out if Shōyō hadn’t directed that final spike, because once the ball was down on Seijoh’s side, it didn’t matter. Hinata was jumping at him screaming, Tanaka was pulling him into a sweaty hug, and Oikawa was the one wearing the grim look of defeat. 

And if he thought for even a second that wasn’t enough, then returning the next day to beat Shiratorizawa certainly was. Because with that hard-fought victory, Karasuno was going to Nationals. 


	9. Collapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the story summary. I think it's a little better. Do you? Summaries are tough!
> 
> This chapter is a little something sweet :)
> 
> Edit: y’all wtf I can’t read and I gave Kageyama the wrong birthday please kill me. (Fixed)

Tobio was riding high ever since Karasuno won their place in the National Spring Interhigh Tournament, and that was over a month ago. Their whole team- even crusty Tsukishima- was excited to be taking the Karasuno name to Nationals for the first time in years. Better still, Tobio had been invited to attend the All-Japan Youth Training Camp at the beginning of December, which was probably the best birthday gift for which he could have hoped. 

Not that he’d looked forward to this year's birthday. Last year’s fell shortly after his grandfather’s death. Like most of his daily life following Kazuyo’s passing, his fourteenth birthday was a lonely, lifeless affair. Miwa tried. She had come home, convinced their mother to join, but none of them, Tobio included, was particularly joyful. Their father had, predictably, cited work, which seemed more abundant after his father’s death. It made Tobio sad, one upon a time, when his father used work to avoid things he’d deemed undesirable: family gatherings, Tobio and Miwa’s games, birthdays and holidays. The boy had graduated to anger as he aged, which now had settled into a smoldering resignation. At fourteen, he hadn’t been exactly surprised at his father's absence for yet another birthday, especially one so soon after a funeral.

Fifteen, though. An early gift to play volleyball for a week with the handpicked best players at his age, for an organization that typically led to recruitment for the national team? _That_ was a gift. Kazuyo would’ve been excited. In Kazuyo’s stead, Hinata had expressed his reluctant admiration at the invitation, which meant more than Tobio thought it would considering his friend’s own desperate attempts to improve and be recognized for it.

After he returned, school would only be in session for another two weeks, ending right before Christmas. With the buzz of his trip to Youth camp and Hinata’s crashing of the Shiratorizawa-hosted rookie training camp still circulating, Tobio wasn’t expecting any talk from his teammates about his birthday. He also suffered the unfortunate timing of a birthday just days before Christmas, which tended to reduce the amount of excitement other people showed for an already unpopular child. True to expectation, no one on the team mentioned it in the days leading up to the 21st, though he wasn’t sore about it. After learning that they’d missed Hinata’s (fabricated) June birthday, Suga had forced a small party for Tsukishima in September and Yamaguchi just last month. Something about making the rookies feel appreciated. Those events had been accompanied by team planning, reminders, and tasks around presents and cake. No such discussion had arisen about his own birthday, so it was easy for Tobio to assume what had happened. 

Not only that, but the person he might’ve cared most about doing anything for his birthday had been uncharacteristically lethargic and absent as of late. Present, at least: he hadn’t left the planet. However, most days out of the week since qualifiers, Shōyō had not come over after practice. The redhead showed up at school in the mornings barely keeping his eyes open until they’d finished warming up, then slept through lunch after eating whatever food Tobio brought him. If not for the alien’s cheerful disposition remaining the exact same, Tobio might’ve been worried. Since it was, he was mostly just annoyed. It was a shame Shōyō wasn’t as good at deflecting spikes as he was at deflecting Tobio’s attempts to uncover the source of his sleeplessness. 

So it was that when he meandered into the gym on the 22nd- thinking of names he could call Hinata for skipping yet another morning race- he nearly fumbled his yogurt drink as the entirety of his team screamed, “SURPRISE!” 

Tobio couldn’t manage more than an incredulous, open-mouthed stare as his team -even _Tsukishima_ \- surrounded him. A flurry of hands clapped him on the back and Sugawara thrust a slice of cake with an unlit candle in his face. “Cake for breakfast!” he cheered. 

“What?” Tobio felt a little numb as he went cross-eyed at the dessert. 

“We figured there was no way we’d get a straight answer from you about your birthday, so we opted for surprise,” Daichi explained. “Asahi! Get the box!” 

The ace flashed him a thumbs up before leaving the group to jog to the equipment room. Tanaka and Nishinoya, meanwhile, mobbed Tobio with rapid-fire questions about his plans for year fifteen. He could barely focus, though, as his eyes scanned their team before alighting on an unruly bush of red hair. “Was this your idea?” Tobio questioned, frowning. 

The team went quiet, tense, at the furrowed expression on Tobio’s face, but Hinata’s trademark grin grew a little wider. “I might’ve made a suggestion,” Shōyō offered. 

Oh, there was no way he was going to be able to hide this one from the team, but Tobio tried. He covered his face as he felt the flustered pink that dusted his cheeks spread warmth across his face. There was a beat more of silence wherein Tsukishima smirked, “I think the King is having an aneurysm.” Then, blessedly, Tanaka grabbed Tobio in a signature headlock that kept his face down turned and ruffled his hair, screeching, “No dying on your birthday, bruh!”

The chatter resumed but Tobio wasn't listening, too busy trying to keep his composure. Had he ever experienced this kind of attentiveness? It was warm. Caring. It felt simultaneously like his heart might burst from his chest, and like he wouldn’t mind if it did. When it came to volleyball Tobio didn’t consider things like luck, but now he felt lucky: lucky he came to Karasuno, lucky he had this team, these friends. Tobio knew when he finally straightened, after everyone had gotten in their hair ruffling, noogies and back slaps, that his eyes were bright with tears. No one commented on it, and Azumane entered his blurry vision holding a poorly wrapped box. “Happy birthday,” he smiled. 

With a short nod, Tobio took the gift and ripped it open. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme; a bunch of high school students could only pool so much allowance. There was a new pair of kneepads, a couple of empty notebooks whose covers had been defaced with stickers and well-wishes, and a t-shirt with a cartoon dog on it that read, ‘Setter.’ He snorted. “Where did you even find this?”

“I asked Kuroo to ask Bokuto to ask Akaashi where he’d gotten his,” Daichi answered. 

Tobio tried to stifle a grin and failed. “Th-thank you everyone,” he mumbled. 

“Ew.” 

Tobio glared and Yamaguchi elbowed Tsukishima in the side for the comment. “Can I eat my cake later?” he questioned seriously, turning to Sugawara. “I want to start practice.” 

The upperclassman rolled his eyes, but sighed, “I figured you’d say that, so I brought a container. Honestly, Kageyama, you have to indulge sometimes! At least blow out the candle if I light it. We’ll sing for you!” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-” 

He was cut off by the click of a lighter and Suga launched into a one-man rendition of the birthday song which almost everyone joined by the end. Across the single flame, Tobio watched Hinata stare into it mindlessly, eyes sleepy and vacant. The redhead snapped to attention when the song ended and everyone clapped. Tobio frowned. 

“Make a wish,” Suga ordered. Tobio didn’t have to think hard. He blew out the candle. 

“You better eat some of this.” 

Hinata’s mouth was practically watering, but politely he hedged, “Are you sure? It’s your birthday cake. That’s a big deal.” 

Tobio rolled his eyes, jammed a plastic spoon into the vanilla-frosted pastry and thrust it into Shōyō’s eager hands. “I ate half already. You can have the rest.” Without a second question the alien began to shovel it into his mouth, emitting a squeal of delight. The taller boy let him eat in silence until the last bite was consumed and Shōyō, like clockwork, yawned and slumped against the classroom table. “Hey,” Tobio started. The redhead peered up from where he’d buried his face in his arms. At this distance, Tobio could really see how puffy his eyes had become. He hesitated, then finished, “Will you stay over tonight? My sister is gonna be home. She wanted to meet you.” 

Sleepy amber eyes squinted happily before shutting. “Sure,” Shōyō agreed. “Sorry I couldn’t really get you anything for your birthday, Tobio.” 

Tobio winced, but everyone in his classroom was too busy with their own lunchtime conversations to notice. “It’s… fine,” he muttered, directing a weak punch to Shōyō’s bowed head. “If you sleep over that’ll be your gift.” 

“That’s a lame gift.”

There was no way he would confess, in a class of his peers or otherwise, that Shōyō staying the night with him, getting actual sleep and being 100% in the morning would be a great gift. “Well, you’re lame so it makes sense,” Tobio said instead. 

It had the some effect: Shōyō whipped up with a glare and shouted, “Would a lame friend do this?” before stomping out of the classroom in a rush. Tobio blinked in confusion, then met the eyes of his classmates who were staring at him with a mixture of pity and surprise, the occasional smirk intermixed.

“Sorry,” he muttered. 

A few minutes passed. Tobio packed his and Shōyō’s _bento_. Then Shōyō stormed back into the classroom, ears and nose red from the cold and screeched, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” before slamming Tobio’s favorite vending machine yogurt drink onto the desk in front of him. Tobio could feel his face erupt into flames. He didn’t look up, but he took the drink like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. 

“Your sister is the prettiest!” Hinata whispered once they were in the safety of Tobio’s room. “And so much nicer than you.” 

“Shut the hell up, dumbass,” Tobio snapped. He chucked a pillow at the side of Shōyō’s head for good measure. 

The redhead just giggled before letting out a huge yawn. “Wanna pass the ball a bit in the yard?” he asked as he reached for the new volleyball Miwa had bought for Tobio’s birthday. 

The birthday boy snatched it before Shōyō could get a hand on it and tossed it aside. “Actually-” 

“Oh! You wanna see Earth from space?” the alien interrupted. The grin on his face, combined with sleepless eyes, was a little manic. “I bet no one else can give you _that_ for your birthday! Or Christmas! I read you’re supposed to exchange gifts at Christmas too. What do you want for Christmas, Tobio?” 

Annoyed, Tobio sucked in a deep breath, then grabbed Shōyō by hair and growled, “Would you shut up for five seconds?” 

With an exaggerated yelp, Hinata squirmed out of Tobio’s grasp. “Rude! I’m just asking.” 

“And I’d answer if you stop talking!” The redhead raised an eyebrow, mimed zipping his lips, then gestured to Tobio to speak. After another steadying breath, Tobio finally said, “I want you to get some sleep.” 

Shōyō cocked his head, expression blank at first then shifting into an incredulous smile. “Talk about lame gifts,” he teased, though his audible mirth did not seem to reach his eyes. “I’m saying I can literally show you space and-”

“I don’t care about that,” Tobio snapped. “How much sleep have you been getting?”

“Tobio-”

“How much?”

Shōyō frowned, biting his lip, and finally fell quiet. “I don’t know,” muttered. “Three, four hours a night?”

Tobio was not the praying type, but he prayed for the patience not to strangle his stupid friend. “You know we have the most important games of the year in a little over a week, right?” Shōyō said nothing, but nodded in assent. “If you’re running yourself ragged, you’re going to get sick,” the taller boy continued. “You can keep on not telling me what you’re doing, which is stupid too, by the way, but you better at least sleep!”

Shōyō glanced aside, and Tobio could tell he wasn’t going to get any kind of helpful response from him. He rose to his feet and, ignoring Hinata’s questions and protests, dragged the redhead to his feet and shoved him bodily into his bed. “Sleep,” he ordered.

“But it’s only 9 o’clock.”

“That’s what I want for my birthday!” Tobio retorted, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating. It might have worked if he wasn’t sure he was turning red. To cover the traces of embarrassment trying to counter his image, he turned to flip off the light. “You better stay there for at least eight hours, or else,” he threatened as he collapsed onto the futon beside the bed. 

The alien was quiet, then Tobio heard him shuffle in the sheets and give a muffled sigh. Satisfied, Tobio too nestled into the covers. Damn, he should’ve thought to switch pillows. Was it too late yet? He inhaled cheap shampoo and something uniquely Shōyō, which made his legs feel like jelly. Well, he could probably make it one night without his own. 

He startled when a small hand connected with his shoulder, then had to bite off a guilty, ‘I wasn’t sniffing your stuff!’ before it left his mouth. “Oh, sorry,” Shōyō mumbled at the strangled noise Tobio made in lieu of speaking. “I just wanted to say, you’re a really good friend.” Tobio hummed his acknowledgment and Shōyō withdrew his hand. Within minutes, Tobio heard Shōyō’s breathing even, and he finally relaxed with an uneven exhale. 

_I’m a good friend,_ he thought, with a hint of pride. Then after a moment, he buried his face into Shōyō’s pillow and squeezed it. _I’m a good friend,_ he realized, with a touch of bitterness.

* * *

There was something off about Shōyō. Tobio could see it by the second day of the tournament, but it didn’t really make sense until the spiker grabbed him with feverish hands. It had only been two days after Tobio’s birthday before Shōyō was back to his disappearing and not sleeping act. It was frustrating to watch after that, but there wasn’t anything else Tobio was going to say. Hadn’t he warned the idiot that he was going to run himself into the ground? Hinata had proceeded to do exactly that right up until he collapsed in the middle of their match against Kamomedai. That outcome was almost a given.

It wasn’t to say Tobio blamed him for Karasuno’s eventual loss. Everyone had given exactly as much as they could and no more. If they couldn’t win without him, they probably weren’t going to win with him, either. But the devastated look on Shōyō’s face as he listened to Takeda inform him that he couldn’t play did evoke a wave of irritation. _I told you,_ Tobio wanted to scream. _If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t be sick._ Though anger never did stand very long once Shōyō started crying. _Supid idiot dumbass alien,_ he thought, once the tears had started to pour down Shōyō’s cheeks. Human bodies need a lot of maintenance; he was willing to bet Hinata hadn’t known it could rebel just from being overstressed. 

He paused at the bench when the whistle signaled the end of their timeout and caught Shōyō’s watery eyes. For a moment, it seemed the redhead was going to start crying again in earnest, like the sight of Tobio was too much to handle. Perhaps he was scared of what he might say, since Tobio was never good with words. Tobio considered this, bit his lip, and muttered, “You better catch up.” It was meant to be encouraging, and in the language that he and Shōyō had learned to speak, he supposed it was. The fearful, heartbroken look on Shōyō’s face faded into the steely determination to which Tobio was accustomed. 

_I should have been a better friend,_ Tobio thought as he trotted back onto the court. 

When he visited him later, back at the hotel, he waited until the others had already gone by and gone to sleep. Tobio knocked on the door as a courtesy before letting himself in. There were few times he really dwelled on their size difference, but this was one of those times. Even if Hinata was one of the shortest players on their team, he rarely came across that way. Something about his aura, his personality. All of it made him so much larger than life, but curled up in the middle of a stark room, Hinata looked very, very small. 

“Hey, idiot. Are you awake?” Tobio whispered. Predictably, there was no sound from the sleeping alien, though he did shift some under his covers. With a steadying breath, the setter considered what he’d prepared to say all throughout dinner, which imbued a little more confidence. It certainly helped knowing that Shōyō was asleep. Tobio knelt by the door and busied himself gathering the dishes leftover from the simple dinner Coach had brought for Hinata. “I’m sorry I didn’t push you harder about taking care of yourself,” he admitted while he cleaned. “I know you wanted to finish the match. There’s… there’s going to be lots of other matches though. We have two more years in school. And you said you were going to keep playing with me. I plan on climbing high, so you’ll have to keep up. And by that I mean, you better get better fast. We have a lot more practicing to do.” 

A small, incomprehensible noise came from the mound of blankets, but nothing more. Tobio gave a soft snort. With empty dishes in hand, he padded from the room and back to the kitchen of the inn. The murmur of voices greeted him first, then the backs of Sugawara and Azumane who were whispering as they washed a tea set. Both looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and gentle smiles when he entered. “I brought Hinata’s dishes,” he said, proffering the tray. 

Hands soapy, Suga took it. “We snuck in for more tea,” the vice-captain explained. “How’s Hinata?”

“Dunno, he was asleep. So, fine I guess.” Tobio paused, noting the exhausted posture of his _senpai_ , then prodded tentatively, “Are you… OK?”

Azumane firmly nodded and assured, “Of course. I was less upset about losing than I thought I would be. I know I did everything I could and I’m satisfied.” Ever the kind soul, Asahi added, “It’s thanks to you that we got to make it here in our last year.” 

Tobio couldn’t help the frown that came to his face. Was it really because of him? Sure, he had the skill, there was no denying that. But… “It wasn’t me,” he argued quietly. “It’s thanks to Hinata.” 

The ace was clearly surprised by the admission, but Suga had to smother a knowing grin. And bless his vice-captain for delivering him from explaining, since he intervened, “Well, we were just talking about our plans for the future. University applications and stuff are right around the corner. Always have to be looking forward, you know?” He crossed his arms thoughtfully as he looked toward the ceiling. “I’m thinking of being a teacher.” 

It brought to mind evenings of being wrangled into compliance by their captains. “I think it suits you, Suga-san,” Tobio stated. 

“Doesn’t it?” Asahi chuckled. “I can’t think of anything scarier than having to stand up in front of a bunch of grade-schoolers everyday.” 

“What do you want to do, Azumane?” 

The giant shrunk a little, a blush erupting on his cheeks at the question. “O-oh, well, I don’t kn-”

“Asahi’s gonna be a fashion designer!” Suga finished for him with a wide grin. “Doesn’t that fit him too? He’s always been the trendiest out of all of us, what with the man-bun and everything.” 

“Suga…” 

Tobio did not understand things like ‘trendiness’ or why Asahi’s hairstyle was an indicator of it, but nodded politely. The vice-captain rolled his eyes and motioned for the two to leave the kitchen. “Anyway, we should get out of here before we wake some staff person and get in trouble.” The very prospect of being scolded by the inn owners made Asahi’s eyes grow round and he scurried on ahead, while Suga threw an arm over Tobio’s shoulder as they exited. “Hey, Kageyama,” he whispered as they tip-toed down the hall. But he was quiet such a long while after that Tobio looked up and found that his upperclassman was frowning and his brown eyes were misty. The motion seemed to snap Suga from his reverie and he finished, unsmiling, “Don’t let stuff pass you by just because you think you have more time. High school is over before you know it.” 

“Suga-san-”

“Shh,” Suga hushed as he pulled open the door to the team room. “G’night, Kageyama.”

It took Tobio a long time to fall asleep after that. 

  
  


Unspoken, Tobio took Shōyō home with him when his mother came to meet them at the school following their return to Miyagi. She’d ushered him straight into the guest bed that Miwa used when she visited and ordered him to sleep. It only annoyed Tobio a little that Hinata hadn’t argued with her in the slightest. Still, Tobio lingered with him a little longer than he had any right to given the alien’s level of exhaustion, but Hinata wasn’t making it easy. He had dozens of questions about the rest of the match with Kamomedai, even though he said he’d been able to watch it thanks to Kenma. Tobio would have to thank Kozume for that. But when Shōyō’s volleyball questions had run dry, Tobio took advantage of the ensuing silence to ask once more, despite being rebuffed every time past, “Why have you not been sleeping?”

The redhead turned to the ceiling, his amber eyes closed as if in resignation. When he finally spoke, voice hoarse from illness and three days screaming during matches, he sounded defeated. “I’ve been trying to find the Strik fleet before they reach the system,” he admitted. “I didn’t tell you so you wouldn’t try to stop me.” It seemed that even if Tobio had possessed the words, Hinata would have continued over him, like a dam had broken. “We said after Nationals we’d have a plan and… and I don’t have a plan, Tobio! I don’t know what to do! I thought at the very least if I could find the fleet signal far enough out then I would have a good head start, but I can’t find anything. Even if they take the same path I did, space is just too big, but I had to try _something_.” The alien sniffled back tears, beginning to sound more congested than he already was. “What are you thinking? Are you mad?”

It was the strangest thing: Tobio was mad; Tobio also felt a serene calm settle over his shoulders. The dichotomy gave him the impression, for a second, that he’d found enlightenment and would now proceed to bless this situation with his sage wisdom. Enlightenment, however, turned out to be fleeting, so an entirely different feeling rose up and subdued the others: sadness. Tobio folded his arms against the bed and in seconds felt his eyes sting and nose burn. 

“Tobio?”

“You’re so fucking stupid, Hinata,” he choked out. Oh, he was, apparently, still angry. “You can’t just give up! You can’t-” _You can’t go, I won’t lose you._ “That is the _worst_ plan! That’s basically the same as your other plan, which was _bad_!” 

“I _know!_ ” Hinata blubbered back, rubbing his streaming nose. “I already know that!” 

“Do you really, though?” Tobio hissed. “Did you even think about what it feels like for me?” Shōyō, who had opened his mouth to reply, floundered, then shook his head silently. “Like you don’t care,” he pressed on. “Like you’re just going to… _leave_.”

Both boys fell quiet, save for the sound of the occasional sniff. Tobio tried to wrangle his breathing and his thoughts, but it felt like trying to hold something slippery. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so out of control, or so _much._ Maybe that was just what liking someone was: out of control, slippery, and overwhelming. It kinda sucked. 

Shōyō was the first to break the silence, a quiet, “Tobio?” that floated up into the darkness. 

“What.” 

“I don’t want to leave. But I don’t know what else to do.”

Tobio’s heart sank and sagged against the bed. Part of him wanted to yell that Hinata had _promised_ to stay, had said he wanted to keep playing volleyball with him. What was all the time spent- the extra practice, the late nights and early mornings- what good was any of it if Shōyō was just going to leave? If that’s how it was going to be, Tobio didn’t want it. He didn’t want friendship or crushes. They’d worked too hard and- 

Tobio gasped; Shōyō startled. 

“We’re so stupid,” Tobio croaked.

Shōyō made a noise that seemed to be caught between a squawk of indignation and a hum of agreement. Tobio ignored him and leapt to his feet with a grin that had his friend recoiling as much as the bed would allow. “You have to fight back!” he declared. “You have your weird glowy power; just blow them up!” 

A wide range of emotions passed across Hinata’s face, mostly shades of disbelief, but Tobio was sure he saw a little hope. “I can’t do that,” the alien argued, but his tone sounded unconvinced. 

“Why not?” Tobio challenged. “You do crazy things all the time in volleyball and don’t even think twice.”

Finally, Shōyō seemed to settle on annoyance. “Trying to blow up hundreds of ships in space while probably getting shot at isn’t anything like volleyball.” 

That was a fair point, Tobio had to admit, but he wasn’t going to give up on this idea that easily. “So you’re just going to let these guys chase you all over the universe? Forever?” He could see the doubt creeping in when Shōyō pursed his lips and frowned like he was thinking. “That’s weak as shit.” 

Shōyō glowered but Tobio would take that over the defeated look which had no business on the smaller boy’s face. “What if I couldn't make a blast that big in time?” he argued, but he was sitting up looking petulant, and Tobio knew that meant the idea had gotten under his skin. “And it’s not like I could practice or something. I would literally have no way of knowing if I could do it until I had to.” 

“Couldn’t you go blow up some asteroids or something for practice? Don’t we have, like, a million or something?” Tobio could vaguely recall something about an asteroid belt from a science lesson long ago. 

“Wait, you do? Well. Maybe- wait, no!” The alien threw up his tiny hands and collapsed back onto the bed. “This is crazy! This is a crazy plan! It’s not even just the power: I mean, if I couldn’t find them, then trying to fight them means waiting until they’re _here_. That’s the opposite of good!” 

Tobio crossed his arms and increased the intensity of his glare. There was no time prior in which Shōyō could withstand his glare, and appropriately the redhead shrank. “Is it crazier than having to run away from terrorists forever?” 

Shōyō flashed him an incredulous look and shouted, “Yes! Because I could die! We could all die!” 

“You could die the other way too!” 

The alien clammed up and Tobio felt a thread of guilt wind around his chest and squeeze. Perhaps he had crossed a line there. Never once had the two mentioned the possibility, even if it seemed obvious given the dire circumstances. Seeing his friend relapse into a frightened ball, Tobio was dissatisfied with himself. If he were Captain Sawamura or Suga-san or Alien Blogger or literally anyone else, he would be able to come up with something. If he were smarter, or better at understanding people, he would know what to say, but the best he could manage was a dangerous, selfish plan. Because that’s what it was, at its heart: just Tobio’s selfish way of trying to hang on to Hinata a little bit longer. “Maybe it’s a stupid plan,” he mumbled.

Shōyō didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree either. He rubbed his temples and muttered with a nasally whine, “My everything hurts.” 

It elicited a quiet snort from Tobio with its suddenness. Like the alien was calling a truce in their battle of which was the better of two terrible ideas. “You should be resting, dumbass.” 

“You're the one in here talking to me!”

“You asked me to talk about the match!” 

“You-! _Ugh_ , get out!” Shōyō screeched, but as Tobio dodged a decorative pillow, he felt fairly sure he’d seen the faintest smile. 

  
  


* * *

The entire team noticed the remarkable difference in Shōyō’s mental presence once he returned to school. Tobio was mostly pleased that he had returned at all. Not that the remainder of the trimester was particularly daunting, aside from the impending graduation of Sawamura, Sugawara, and Azumane. They dropped in when they weren’t cramming for exams, but for the first time in his life, Tobio had to admit practices didn’t feel quite right. Not only that but Suga’s reflective comment about things passing him by because time was short was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Suga wasn’t wrong; Tobio’s first year of high school was essentially over. It had been a more incredible one than he could have imagined, too. He’d had a team- a _real_ team- who became real friends- _even_ Tsukishima. He’d gotten to play volleyball against some of the greatest high school players in the nation. Heck, the fact that their team made it to Nationals was a thing of beauty. 

But when he thought about it a little bit harder, it was probably also the first time in his life where he could measure good moments and firsts that weren’t centered around volleyball. He made a friend close enough to bring home, even if said friend had unceremoniously landed in his life. He’d seen his mom more this year than he had in the last three combined, more or less. He had a birthday party that he’d actually enjoyed. And most unexpectedly, Tobio had joined the hordes of hormonal high schoolers hungry for the approach of Valentine’s Day. 

It was almost disappointing to realize that something other than volleyball could occupy his mind. At least Hinata was tightly woven with the sport, making it feel natural. More disappointing was that it was such a stupid holiday, centered around chocolate and love confessions and not-volleyball, and still Tobio was curious. He was pretty sure that it was something only girls cared for. When he’d casually asked Suga-san if this were true, part of the ensuing lecture had been, “Who cares! In other countries anyone can give a gift to the person they like on Valentine’s Day!” His advice had also been accompanied by a very pointed look and sly smile but thankfully unvoiced opinion. 

He could add this to a list of first time stressors, too, along with menacing alien invasion and liking a boy. Alien. Person. 

It wasn’t as if Hinata would care about Valentine’s Day anyway. What did he know? Did aliens even date? 

“Do aliens date?” Shōyō echoed. 

Tobio realized that he must have muttered the question aloud during their post-school walk home. His eyes widened and he whipped around to see Hinata’s reaction, only to find that he was, for better or worse, obliviously thoughtful. “I guess it’s probably pretty different,” Shōyō admitted. “When you can share everyone’s thoughts it’s…” the redhead trailed off, looking a little embarrassed, “...hard to find privacy. I think you get set up by a group of people? I-I don’t know, I wasn’t really old enough to care, you know? Why? Oh! Is it because Valentine’s Day is coming up?”

“What! How do you know anything about Valentine’s Day?” Tobio snapped. 

The alien lifted an eyebrow at him. “ _Bakageyama_ , it’s all anyone in my class has been talking about since school started, so-” he suddenly looked very smug as he grinned- “I _googled_ it. Did I use that right?” Tobio snorted into his hand in a weak attempt at smothering his laughter, which earned him a punch in the shoulder. “No! Was that not right?” Shōyō shrieked. “If that was something totally wrong, I blame Noya!” 

“You used it right,” the taller boy smirked. “It just sounded dumb coming from you.” 

Shōyō launched himself at Tobio’s side screeching in the frigid January air, “You’re so mean! Nobody will ever date you with that attitude!”

Even knowing that Shōyō was joking, Tobio paused. It was far from the first time he was told he needed an attitude adjustment, but it was the first time he considered in terms of dating. If Valentine’s Day was coming up, and who knew how long he had left with Hinata, maybe something nice wasn’t out of the question. Seeing that Tobio wasn’t fighting back his onslaught of hasty punches, Shōyō leapt back and warbled, “What are you planning! Your face looks weird- _gak_!” His sentiment ended with a snowball to the mouth. 

Tobio thought, with Sugawara’s varied advice, that he might find the courage to do something that could be considered special for Hinata on Valentine’s Day. The idea was more daunting in practice. He wasn’t sure how many looks he’d received from the three different stores he’d attempted to enter, ranging from concern to fear. In the end, he bought Shōyō a candy bar from the _conbini_ and resolved to give it to him by the end of the day, February 14th 

The unexpected occurred at lunch in Hinata’s classroom when a girl Tobio had never once seen before in his life approached him with a letter and a confession. Tobio hadn’t actually been aware of what she was saying- something about him looking cool in their game against Shiratorizawa and Inarizaki- because his mind was unhelpfully supplying, _All_ _I’ve got this stupid candy bar for Hinata. What the hell am I supposed to say?_ He was made aware that he should be saying something when Shōyō’s foot connected with his shin. 

“No,” he stated. 

“T- _Kageyama_ ,” Hinata hissed. 

“Oh.” Tobio looked up at the girl who looked stunned, the letter still clenched in what was becoming a fist. “No, thank you.” 

When she’d stormed off, head high, Tobio turned back to his _bento_ and found that his appetite had fled. Somehow he hadn’t expected the experience to be so harrowing for everyone involved; even Hinata jabbed quietly at his food until the wandering eyes of his classmates had lost interest. “Why did you say no?” he whispered, leaning in over his desk.

Tobio leaned in as well. “I have no idea who that was.” 

The answer seemed to confuse the redhead, who furrowed his brow. “I thought the point of human dating was to get to know each other, though.”

“Well, I don’t want to get to know her either.” 

“Why not?”

Chair scraping against the floor with a screech, Tobio jolted to his feet. “I’m going to get a drink,” he informed, grabbing his belongings. “See you in practice.” He stalked from the room with a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to ensure that Hinata hadn’t followed as he made his way to the vending machines.

“Stupid,” he muttered at his yogurt, though he wasn’t sure if was the holiday, his friend, or himself to whom he referred. 

Tobio had never dreaded the end of practice more, but end it did, leaving him no choice but to walk home with an energetic, oblivious alien. Not so oblivious, however, not to comment, “You’re being grumpier than usual, Frowny-yama.”

Tobio shrugged, but the acknowledgment sent his thoughts spiraling back to the events at lunch. His frown turned into a full on grimace. The candy, his plain and ridiculous attempt at romance, weighed a million tons in its hiding place in his school bag. Fear had been gnawing at him all day: that Hinata wouldn’t understand the significance of the gesture; fear that he would. Of the indeterminate amount of time he had left with his closest friend, did he want to hazard changing the atmosphere between them? Hesitantly, he mumbled, “Hey, Hinata.." 

“Oh! Wait,” Shōyō exclaimed with a snap of his fingers before diving into his own school bag. When his hand reemerged, it grasped a crinkly red cellophane bag in which four chocolate squares were nestled. “Here. Do you want to share?”

Tobio was certain his eyes couldn’t have been any wider as he regarded the innocuous confectionery. “Where did you… why do...?” he garbled, unable to form a single coherent sentence. 

“They were in my shoe cubby,” Shōyō chirped as he popped one of the chocolates into his mouth with an appreciative hum. “Someone left a note saying they thought I was nice!”

That there was someone else out there who admired Shōyō in the same manner should not have come as a surprise. The redhead was outgoing and cheerful, earnest and fun. People would have to be blind not to have noticed, and still Tobio had never considered. Before he could second guess, the spark of competition caught fire: Tobio plunged his hand into his bag and thrust the candy bar into Shōyō’s startled face. “This is for you,” he snapped. Gingerly, the alien took the candy with his free hand, as if considering a foreign artifact. There was a curious look upon his face when he stopped to regard Tobio, who could feel both heat and panic rising in his chest. “I-I thought you would feel left out,” the taller boy lied, stepping past Shōyō with his eyes to the ground. “Obviously I was worried for nothing!”

“You got this for me?” Shōyō clarified as he jogged to catch up. 

Tobio almost didn’t want to answer. Perhaps if he held his tongue, a sinkhole would open under his feet and kill him instantly instead. When no such thing occurred, he reluctantly muttered, “Yeah.”

Shōyō didn’t look upset, but he didn’t look happy either. He bore the expression of someone on the precipice of solving a difficult problem, but who hadn’t quite reached a conclusion. “Because it’s… Valentine’s Day?”

“You don’t see people going around giving candy on any other day do you?” Tobio sneered. 

“I’m just trying to understand why. Don’t get all snippy!” 

“Don’t overthink it!” Tobio shouted. He was grateful for the freezing wind blowing in his face for leeching some of the burning embarrassment from his face. “You don’t even have to eat it. It’s not like it’s special.” 

Shōyō skipped forward and deliberately bumped Tobio’s shoulder. “Yes it is,” he argued with a firm shake of his head. “You were thinking about how I’d feel and didn’t want me to be left out! That’s really special to me!” 

It wasn’t the reaction he’d planned, but the words warmed Tobio’s chest all the same. He risked a glance at his friend, and found that he was still regarding the candy bar with a searching gaze. There was a gentle smile on his lips, his cheeks bitten red by the cold and hair tousled by the wind, and Tobio committed the image to memory. Maybe it wasn’t in the way he intended, but he was sure that Shōyō only smiled that way because of him. 

They’d parted ways at Tobio’s house, and Tobio was grateful for the chance to finally thaw. He’d forced Shōyō to take his bike the rest of the way instead of walking so he could relax knowing that the redhead would be home soon as well. With a surprising stroke of intelligence, Shōyō suggested that Tobio take the remaining mystery chocolate and give it to his mom, so he set about writing a note to accompany it before he did anything else. He’d scarcely finished it when there was a knock at the door. 

Before he even opened it, he was ranting, “Oi, what did you forget, dumbass?” trying to curb the grin that threatened to overtake his face. 

It was not Shōyō on the other side of the door, though, but an imposing man in a black suit. Tobio made a strangled noise, dropped into an apologetic bow, and stammered, “S-Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?” Shit, this was probably one of his parent’s coworkers; he really hoped they weren’t going to say anything about his less-than-admirable greeting. 

“Kageyama Tobio?” the man questioned. 

Tobio narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?” 

The man didn’t answer him, but pressed a hand to his earpiece. “It’s him,” he stated. 

A cold and sudden dread gripped Tobio’s chest. Time slowed as he made to slam the door, but the man’s black-gloved hand shot out and seized his wrist. The door struck Tobio in the face as it snapped back open and he staggered, clutching his nose. His hands came away bloody. Dazed, there was little Tobio could do but flail ineffectively while the stranger twisted one of his arms behind his back and took him to the ground. 

There were no villainous apologies or monologues as the man carefully stuck something sharp into Tobio’s upper arm. “What the fuck was that?” he ground out, but the man pressed his face into the hardwood in answer. 

“It’ll only require a mild cleanup,” he said, presumably to his earpiece. Tobio thrashed against his hold but the stranger tightened his grip on Tobio’s wrist. He stilled as his arm twinged in protest and a future of professional volleyball flashed before his eyes. A minute later, another pair of shiny, black shoes entered Tobio’s vision and he strained to look upwards at the second intruder but couldn’t make out more than the man’s knees. 

“Not bad. You’re right, it won’t take much to cover this up. Here, cuff him,” the second voice ordered. “Sorry about your nose, buddy. I give it one more minute before you don’t feel anything.” 

Tobio grit his teeth and snarled, “My mom is going to be home in a minute, asshole.” 

That earned a laugh from the second attacker, though the original silently zip-tied Tobio’s wrists. “Nah, your mom _conveniently_ got held up at work,” he informed. “And we all know your dad is never here.”

The blood in Tobio’s veins went icy at the remark- 

-and then everything became very warm. The tension left his muscles as cotton flooded his head. He went limp under the attacker’s knee. 

“Ah, there it is!” the second stranger exclaimed, nudging him with his shoe. “Alright, get him in the car, would you? I’ll get the crew started on clean up.” As the first man hefted him over his shoulder, Tobio could barely make out the receding entryway of the house. The blurry outlines of two more people passed them as he went down the icy drive, then his vision went completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just kidding I'm a liar. >:)


	10. Thermal Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had my usual beta reader check this chapter. I wanted to ensure it lived up to everything that’s been building. It did take him a minute to get around to it, and I had already finished the chapter. So when he presented his ideas (excellent ones) I had to go back and rewrite. Thus it took me a tad bit longer to get this one out. 
> 
> Y’all ready for the pain?

Shōyō waited at the sidewalk for Tobio longer than usual before knocking on the door. It wasn’t like him to be late when volleyball practice was on the line, but maybe he had slept through his alarm. Several minutes passed with no answer so Shōyō reverently referred to his secret, last resort plan- the spare key. Mayumi had provided it to him in the event of an emergency, and if there was anything Tobio would consider an emergency, it would be missing practice. 

“Tobio!” he called as he hopped from foot to foot. “You’re running late! You’re going to have to ride with me on the bike if you take any longer!”

“Hinata?” a voice replied, and Mayumi stuck her head out from the downstairs bathroom. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. I think Tobio already left this morning. He was gone when I went to make sure he was up.” 

“What!” Shōyō huffed. “He didn’t even text me! _Argh_ , thanks Kageyama-san! Oh, hey, did you like the chocolate?”

Tobio’s mother came out of the bathroom, prepared for the day and wearing a happy smile. “Of course. That was your idea, wasn’t it?” 

The alien adopted a shocked expression. “No! That was all Tobio!” he exclaimed, though a smug, wide grin worked its way onto his face. “Sorry, I have to go or he’ll give me hell for being late.” 

“OK, well, tell him to be home for dinner,” she ruffled his orange waves. “You should stay tonight, Hinata. Have a good day!”

His cheerful wave was followed by a panicked screech as he checked the time on his phone, hopped on the bike and pedaled furiously for the school. Heaving lungfuls of freezing air, Shōyō sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him and slid into the gym five minutes after 7am. “I’m sorry, everyone!” he shouted as he flung off his wet shoes. 

“Ah, Hinata!” Yachi cheered. “You made it.” Then her small face twisted in confusion when she glanced at the empty space behind him. “Kageyama isn’t with you?” 

Shōyō froze in the act of lacing up his volleyball shoes. “He isn’t here?” 

“I think we would all know if the King was here,” Tsukishima replied dryly as he walked up with Yamaguchi in tow. “We’d already be forced into practicing.”

Yamaguchi nodded but a frown crossed his freckled face. “He really isn’t with you? Isn’t that kind of weird for him not to be at practice? Did he text you?” 

A wave of worry came over the redhead as he fished his phone from his bag. “Nothing,” he murmured, turning his worried amber eyes to the other first years. “He wasn’t at home. His mom said he already left.” 

The three fell quiet until newly minted captain Ennoshita marched over and ordered, “Come on guys, let’s get moving. Is Kageyama coming today?” When they hesitated to reply, he pressed, “Is something wrong?” 

“We don’t know where he is, Captain,” Shōyō responded. “He wasn’t at home and he didn’t text anyone.” 

Ennoshita rubbed his chin, his expression growing as troubled as the others’. “That’s weird,” he said. “He’s too much of a freak to miss practice.”

“Yeah, like that time he tried to practice with a head cold,” Yamaguchi piped up. Despite the situation, it elicited a snort from Shōyō. He’d forgotten about that, but would definitely bring it up next time Tobio lectured him about overworking himself.

The captain pointed at Yamaguchi. “Exactly. Will one of you try calling him?” 

To everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima already had the phone to his ear, then dropped his hand with a scowl. “Just goes straight to voicemail every time.” 

“Aw, Tsukki.” 

“S-shut up, Yamaguchi.” 

Tears sprang to Yachi’s wide, blue eyes and she stammered, “Wh-wh-what if he got k-kidnapped?” 

Shōyō’s heart leapt into his throat. “I saw him go home though,” he argued, though his own words offered him little relief. “I watched him go inside!” That was just Yachi’s obvious anxiety taking root, wasn’t it? Because why would anyone want to kidnap Tobio? 

“Why would anyone want to kidnap the King?” Tsukishima scoffed as if he’d read Shōyō’s mind. 

“Alright, here’s what we’re doing,” Ennoshita declared, clapping his hands to get the attention of the rest of the gym. “Tanaka!” he shouted. “Make sure everyone gets warmed up. Start with individual or group practice. I’m going to talk to Takeda-sensei.” To the small group of first years, he added, “Hinata, come with me. We’ll be back.” Once they had explained to Takeda their concerns, the reliable teacher had jumped to work speaking with Tobio’s home room teacher and the rest of the faculty. By lunch time, when Tobio had yet to make an appearance in his classroom or been seen anywhere on school grounds, Hinata requested to join Takeda in calling Mayumi. 

“Kageyama-san? Sorry to trouble you during the work day,” Takeda started while Shōyō clenched his hands into small fists at his side. “It’s about Tobio.”

Shōyō could hear the concern leaking into her voice right away as it came tinny through the phone. “It’s no trouble. Is everything OK?” 

Takeda shared a look with Shōyō before replying, “Well, Tobio didn’t come to school today. Hinata said he was by this morning and Tobio wasn’t home? Is that right?”

They could hear the sound of her breathing in the moments that passed, before she snapped, “ _What?”_

“Kageyama-san!” Shōyō called as he leaned in closer to the receiver. “Did you see Tobio when you got home from work last night?” 

“Hinata? I- no, I didn’t,” she said, her voice growing more worried by the second. “I got home so late, I-I just assumed- oh, god. I’m leaving work right now.” 

“Please drive carefully, Kageyama-san,” Takeda pleaded. “Would you like to come here, or-“

“No, I’m going straight to the police,” she said, tone brusque, before the line clicked off. 

Takeda docked the phone and hung his head with a sigh, but Shōyō was chewing his nails as he thought. “I think I was the last person who saw him,” he concluded. “We walked home after practice. He didn’t say he was going anywhere.” And he would’ve. They were best friends, after all. 

The teacher rubbed his chin and regarded the redhead. “Perhaps you should meet Kageyama-san when she speaks to the police. How do you feel about that?”

Shōyō’s eyes glittered bright with determination. “Can you take me?”

***

Mayumi Kageyama cradled her head in her hand as she filled out the paperwork and Shōyō bounced his leg anxiously beside her, fists clenched on his knees. Periodically, she paused in writing to pat Shōyō reassuringly on the head. “What was he wearing when you left the house?” she whispered. 

The question made Shōyō pause in his bouncing, but not because he didn’t remember. Quite the opposite, thanks to the curious chocolate exchange that had made his chest swell happily in an almost alarming way. “The white club shirt and a black long-sleeve underneath. Uh, black tights, blue shorts, and our gym pants on top. His winter running jacket,” Shōyō relayed as he recalled the flustered posture of his friend while he fumbled around his words, chocolate candy bar in hand. “Oh, his running gloves too,” he added. 

Mayumi scribbled it down in the missing persons report. The female community officer seated across them at the intake desk took the clipboard from her and skimmed it once Mayumi had signed. “He’s never run away before?” the office asked

Mayumi shook her head vehemently. “Tobio would never,” she affirmed. “This isn’t like him at all.”

The officer gave her a look that was not unkind and inquired gently, “No drug use or thoughts of suicide? Signs of a struggle at the house?” Mayumi blanched but shook her head again. “No offense meant. Just trying to cover all the bases,” the officer reassured. “And you were with him yesterday?” she continued with a look at Shōyō. 

“Yeah. We left practice together and I walked him all the way home.” 

The officer nodded, then paused with a hesitant glance at Mayumi. “I know sometimes there’s things kids don’t want to tell their parents. If your friend could be in trouble and there’s anything that you know that would help us find him, you need to tell us,” she said, her voice understanding but firm. 

Shōyō wavered for a moment under the weight of her words. Based on the line of questioning, he knew she was implying something reasonably expected of a missing teenager: drugs, bad friends, bullying. Shōyō knew Tobio, though. There was nothing his friend cared more for than volleyball, and anything that could jeopardize that wouldn’t even be a blip on his radar. Oh… but that wasn’t exactly true, he realized with startling clarity, because there was one and only one aspect of Tobio’s life which could potentially place him in danger. The redhead clenched his fists in his lap, tears springing unbidden to his eyes. “No,” he choked. “He cared too much about volleyball for anything else.”

To his left, Tobio’s mother let out a short, watery chuckle of agreement. The officer nodded with a polite, sympathetic smile and jotted a few more notes on the form. “We’ll be on the lookout for your son, Kageyama-san,” she informed, rising with a bow. “Please take care of yourself in the meantime.” 

Their ride home was quiet, but when they reached the Kageyama house, Mayumi paused to consider the front door. “I don’t really want to go inside,” she confessed to Shōyō. “The thought that he isn’t in there… Hinata, you don’t think he would’ve run away either, right?”

The alien froze as guilt iced over in his veins. _Of course not_ , he wanted to say, _because this is all my fault._ Shōyō was, after all, the only aspect of Tobio’s life that was different, dangerous. They’d read all the stories, seen the movies, not that fiction was the complete basis for Shōyō’s current fears. There was a recurring theme in so many aspects of human life that drove his concern: people don’t like what they don’t understand. Tobio had even asked him in the beginning if somehow this would come back on him or Kageyama-san, but Shōyō had laughed it off, unconcerned. Selfish. Shōyō had gotten lucky with Tobio, very lucky, but it didn’t look like the same could be said of Tobio. The alien turned his amber eyes towards her. Would she disappear too if Shōyō stayed? “I don’t think he ran away,” he answered softly. His vision went soft and his eyes bright as he held back tears. “But I want to know what happened,” he cried. 

“Oh, Hinata,” Mayumi murmured, and her warm arm came around Shōyō’s shoulders and squeezed. “So do I.” Before them, the empty house loomed, awaiting them patiently, but they could only resist so long. “We’d better go inside,” she conceded, letting the ominous threshold have its victory. “If you want to, that is. I know you have your own family to go home to.” 

Her voice was raw but still she offered Shōyō a smile that he didn’t deserve. He almost said no to punish himself, but his self-centered desires won out and he nodded. He wanted to curl up on Tobio’s bed, surrounded by the scent and comfort he usually found in his family away from home. When they entered, he knew they both wanted Tobio’s answer to their greeting, but the house continued to withhold. In silent agreement, they both went upstairs, holding their breath like it was all the hope they had left against the dark gloom. But opening Tobio’s bedroom door to more emptiness forced the grim reality down their lungs and Mayumi turned, fast steps carrying her away, away. Shōyō, gulping great gasps of burning air, threw himself onto the bed and cried. 

His fault. All of this was his fault; he was just too stupid to have seen it sooner. For a moment, Shōyō allowed himself to wish: he wished the Strik had never invaded; he wished he’d never let his parents force him into that ship; he wished he’d never met Tobio Kageyama. If none of this had happened, if he’d stayed at home no matter the consequences, at least Tobio wouldn’t be in danger now. Of course, he realized, it would have meant never meeting Tobio to begin with. He wouldn’t have met their wonderful, weird teammates either, or found joy in a simple sport about connecting. There were a thousand small memories for which he could be grateful, none of which would have happened without Tobio, but it filled him with a surge of hostility toward the Strik. Did they really believe they’d be able to rage across galaxies destroying lives like Tobio’s and Shōyō’s forever? Shōyō twisted the blankets into his fists, dimly aware that he was leaking energy, a soft glow in the evening-lit room. He needed to breathe, get it under control. He needed a _plan._

Shōyō gradually unraveled himself from Tobio’s blankets, wiping his face in the sheets. His head felt fuzzy and disorganized, and he slapped his already red cheeks in an effort to focus. If he wanted to figure out how to find Tobio and to do something about the Strik, he couldn’t lay around wallowing, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. So far, he was the only one who knew a good potential reason why his friend was missing, but it wasn’t as if Shōyō could tell anyone, _Hey, I’m an alien and Tobio might’ve disappeared because he knows too much,_ without getting some looks _._ Not only that, but there was nothing Shōyō could offer as proof of his worry either besides a gut feeling. Figuring out what had happened and what he should _do_ was something with which he desperately needed help, even more than before now that Tobio's life was on the line. Shōyō took a steadying breath and rose on flimsy legs, and as his amber eyes swept the room, he alighted on Tobio’s laptop, peaking innocuously from under a blanket that had pooled on the floor. 

The blogger!

Shōyō snapped open the laptop with fingers trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline and navigated to Tobio’s email. The extensive chain with _SetInSpace94_ was flagged under a slew of sports updates and product mailers. Shōyō clicked on it, but paused, staring at the blank new message screen. He had to ensure this person knew it wasn’t a prank email, and there was one easy way to do so, but it would require a great deal of bravery on Shōyō’s part. _Do it for Tobio,_ he told himself with a crack of his knuckles. 

_SetInSpace94,_

_This is a friend of Volleyball96. Can you text me? It’s important._

Shōyō added his phone number then smacked send as soon as he finished, eager to have the information as soon as he could. What if it took this person days to reply? How would he—

_BZZ._

Shōyō nearly jumped from his skin when his phone vibrated against his leg; he hadn’t even had time to finish rereading the first email. 

_From: [unknown]  
_ _Who is this?_

_To: [unknown]  
_ _Hi, friend of Volleyball96. THE friend. Something happened and I need help_

_From: [unknown]  
_ _The friend?  
_ _Wait  
_ _OH  
_ _OMG  
_ _The friend like, all of those emails were true, best friend from space, friend?_

Shōyō read the texts then paused. Technically, if his hunch was right about Tobio, this person could be endangered by talking to him too. Was it bad that part of him felt unconcerned about the welfare of a stranger when he compared it to Tobio’s? At least they would know better what they were getting into. 

_To: [unknown]  
_ _Yes_

_From: [unknown]  
_ _OMG  
_ _I KNEW IT  
_ _This is the best day of my life_

_To: [unknown]  
_ _I think this might be dangerous  
_ _My friend is missing  
_ _No proof but probably my fault  
_ _Can you help me find out who has him?_

_From: [unknown]  
_ _Uh  
_ _Hmm  
_ _Might need to think about this  
_ _Can we meet up?  
_ _How far are you from Sendai?_

Heart-pounding, Shōyō tabbed open a map and routed. Sendai had been where they’d played AobaJohsai and lost. That had been an hour or so by bus right? Less? He could probably figure out the train...

_To: [unknown]  
_ _Close enough. Tomorrow?_

If he skipped practice after the half-day, he could make it tomorrow, as much as he was loath to miss volleyball. 

_From: [unknown]  
_ _Can’t Saturday, Sunday is good  
_ _1pm outside here [link]_

_To: [unknown]  
_ _OK, Sunday_

Shōyō let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Would it really be OK to meet them in person? From what Shōyō had gathered, humans who actually believed aliens existed were _weird._ Or, maybe it would be a trap and they try to kidnap Shōyō too. Or worse. He gnawed on a fingernail he hadn’t worn to a stub yet, then pulled out his phone. 

_To: *Suga-san*  
_ _Are you busy Sunday?_

_From: *Suga-san*  
_ _Sho~ Miss you. What’s up?  
_ _Also, we just heard about Kags from Ryuu. You OK?_

_To: *Suga-san*  
_ _I’ll be fine  
_ _Can you help me figure out how to get here?  
_ _[link]  
_ _Need to be there by 1_

_From: *Suga-san*  
_ _hm…  
_ _That’s not far from the uni I want to go to  
_ _Let’s go together, we can talk <3  
_ _I can meet you at the metro station  
_ _At 11, just to be sure  
_ _Why tho?_

_To: *Suga-san*  
_ _TY Suga  
_ _Meeting someone Tobio knew_

_From: *Suga-san*  
_ _Huh  
_ _Ok...  
_ _Gimme details then, yeah?_

He breathed a sigh of relief and clicked his phone shut. It sucked having to wait a day, but at least Sugawara could help him get there, maybe stick around long enough to ensure he didn’t get kidnapped. After that, though, he needed to handle the situation on his own as much as he could. It would be terribly unfair to bring one more person into the mess he had created, especially one so nice as Sugawara.

Pocketing his phone, he took a last look around Tobio’s room before padding downstairs. He could hear Mayumi’s distraught voice on the phone as she explained the situation, presumably to Miwa. He waved at her to catch her attention and pointed to the door. She nodded with a grateful smile before returning to the call. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, Shōyō turned towards the park and his ship, but he had a feeling sleep would evade him. 

***

“So, really: who’s this friend you’re trying to meet, Hinata?” Sugawara questioned. “I need to decide how worried I should be if I up and leave you.” 

Together with Suga, Shōyō huddled against the wall of the cafe facing the street awaiting the arrival of the blogger. Although Shōyō had offered vague reasons about why he was meeting in Sendai and assurances that Suga really didn’t have to stick around, the protective upperclassman was persistent. When they’d talked about Tobio being missing, it had only fueled the former setter’s fire to know this ‘friend’ might have answers. Not that Sugawara knew that the answers probably involved alien terrorists and Shōyō’s real identity, or that this person was a complete stranger. If it was at all possible for Shōyō to keep these kinds of details from Suga, he would. 

The redhead could feel a nervous sweat beading along his brow. “Uh, someone Tobio met on the internet a while back,” he mumbled. “They’re just… friends. They’ve been exchanging emails.” 

The former vice-captain stared at him then seized Hinata’s arm in a tight grip. “Excuse me, what?” he hissed. “You’ve never actually met them, have you? And Tobio was talking to this internet _creep_ and now he’s missing? Hinata! Please tell me you told the police! Oh, my god, I knew you two were stupid but I didn’t think-!”

“Suga, it’s not like that,” Shōyō tried to explain. “It’s-” he covered his face to stifle a frustrated groan- “it’s a long story.” 

“Well I’m all ears now, buddy, so-”

“Chibi-chan and Refreshing-kun?”

Both Shōyō and Suga jerked up from their quiet argument at the surprised voice who uttered nicknames only one person ever used. “Oikawa,” Suga acknowledged with a false grin. “ _So good_ to see you. You too, Iwaizumi, but for real.” 

“Hey, Sugawara.” 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi joined them under the cafe awning, the former with an equally false smile and the latter with a head nod at Hinata. “Fancy meeting you two in Sendai,” Oikawa remarked. “Where’s Tobio-chan? Aren’t you two attached at the hip, Chibi-chan?”

Shōyō could feel Suga bristle at the mention of Tobio. “That’s tacky, even for you,” Suga growled. The alien tugged at Suga’s sleeve before he could get too wound up and stressed, “They probably don’t know.” 

Oikawa raised an eyebrow at Iwaizumi, who shrugged. When Suga was quiet, mouth pressed into a tight line, the Seijoh setter prodded, “Know what, exactly?”

It was Hinata who piped up, “Tobio’s missing.” 

Both of Tobio’s former _senpai_ looked taken aback by the news, and Iwaizumi frowned, “What do you mean missing?”

“We mean no one has seen or heard from him for almost three days,” Suga snapped. “You know: the definition of missing.” 

Iwaizumi held up his gloved hands in a gesture of peace. “Sorry. We really didn’t know. Are you here looking for him? Can we help?” Oikawa shot him an annoyed look at the offer. 

“Well,” Suga growled with a heated look of his own at Shōyō, “right before you walked up, Shōyō decided to tell me he’s trying to meet up with some wacko internet predator Kageyama had been emailing for the last who-knows-how-long. So maybe you can help me talk some sense into him.” 

“I mean, the person seems weird but not like _that_ ,” Shōyō mumbled with pleading eyes to Iwaizumi and Oikawa, both who looked both incredulous. “It’s a long story, but it’s not like you’re thinking.”

With a haughty snort and toss of his head, Oikawa pulled out his phone and typed as he remarked, “I couldn’t imagine that even if my life depended on it. We’re waiting for someone anyway, so we won’t be here long enough to think about helping, right Iwa-chan?” 

Iwaizumi flashed him a concerned frown. “Isn’t this more important?” he argued. 

Shōyō rolled his eyes while they argued and flipped open his buzzing phone. 

_From: [unknown]  
_ Here. You?

A prickle of nervousness danced along his neck. Even if it was unreasonable, he felt like he was being watched. 

To: _[unknown]  
_ _Yep, here.  
_ _What’re you wearing? I’m with people but I’ll come find you_

He glanced up from his phone when Suga said his name. “Hinata, even Iwaizumi agrees you should tell the police,” Suga pleaded. “I think- wait are you _texting_ this person?” He snatched the phone from Shōyō’s hand before he could react and flipped it open. “' _Brown hair, white scarf and navy jacket._ ' Who does this guy think he is? _‘OK weirdo, I’m calling the police_.’ Heh, creep. That'll show him,” Suga muttered as he typed out a response. 

Shōyō wasn’t listening, though, because his ears had begun ringing at the description of the stranger’s clothes. It might’ve been harder to find someone based on that, if the person wasn’t already a few feet away from him staring back with astronomically wide eyes. “B-blue jacket,” Shōyō stuttered numbly. A few strangled noises fell from Oikawa’s parted lips in return as his long fingers squeezed around the white scarf looped around his neck. 

“Alright, Shō, we’re not waiting here,” Suga prompted as he snapped shut Shōyō’s phone and glanced up. Oikawa’s phone chirped a second later, and Shōyō was vaguely aware of Suga breathing, “Oh, shit.” Even Iwaizumi’s brow was pulled taut, mouth open but in silent disbelief, and he elbowed Oikawa. 

Oikawa emitted a high pitched keen; Shōyō stared.

“OK, what the hell is happening right now?” Suga demanded. 

Shōyō blinked, several times, hard, but the man in the navy jacket and white scarf, the one who was supposed to help him find Tobio, was still Oikawa Tōru. He suddenly felt like he hadn’t had any water in days, his throat scratchy and body weak as he raised a trembling finger to point at Oikawa. “Y-you?” he croaked. 

“ _You_?” Oikawa gasped in return. His eyes had been locked unwaveringly on Shōyō’s. “You’re the _friend_? A-And Tobio?” A moment later he had his phone in trembling fingers and whipped the screen towards Shōyō and Suga. “This is Tobio?” he screeched. Shōyō didn’t even have to look, but he did anyway. Numbly, he took in the highlighted email and the two familiar usernames therein, then covered his face with his hands and let out a piteous moan.

“Grand King,” Shōyō mumbled from behind the safety of his hands, “you’re _SetInSpace94?_ ” He peaked through his fingers when Oikawa didn’t answer, and found that the tall man was all but vibrating in place, his wide eyes now accompanied by a feral grin. 

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his long-suffering expression garnished with a sigh of, “ _You’re_ the one here about his weirdo alien blog?” Suga mouthed the words ‘ _weirdo alien blog,’_ as if it would help him understand the unfolding events. 

“If Tobio-chan was _Volleyball96_ ,” Oikawa effused, seemingly unaffected by the reactions of Iwaizumi and Sugawara, “then that means…” He trailed off, eyes bright as he stared down Shōyō. 

“Please don’t say it,” Shōyō begged, but the Seijoh setter gripped his shoulders in hand and dragged him into a bone-crushing hug as he sobbed, “Alien-chan!”

After a stunned moment where the only sound was Oikawa’s delighted squeal as he sunk his fingers into Shōyō’s messy orange hair, Suga clapped his hands. “Alright,” he declared. “Someone needs to buy me a goddamn coffee and then we all need to talk about what the hell is happening.” 

“Seconded,” agreed Iwaizumi. 

“Oh my god,” Oikawa gasped as he straightened, his grip on Shōyō unrelenting. “We can’t talk around all these people. We need to-”

“Nope,” Suga interrupted as he pried the other setter’s long fingers off of Shōyō’s head. “We aren’t doing anything until after coffee. I want it extra strong with milk and sugar.” 

“But-”

“Your treat,” Suga insisted with a smile, pushing him into Iwaizumi’s firm grasp who then steered him into the cafe. “Hinata,” he whispered once the door jingled shut behind them, “what’s going on? Are you OK?”

The alien had been quiet once Oikawa had taken hold of him, but he met the comforting face of his upperclassman with a wobbly frown. His thoughts hadn’t stopped spinning since the moment Oikawa had confirmed his identity as the internet blogger. To think that, of all people, the person who knew the next most about him after Tobio was _Oikawa Tōru_? Shōyō let his head fall into Suga’s shoulder and he sagged. The dependable boy on whom he leaned wrapped him in a supportive hug, but it reminded Shōyō that Suga had no inkling of what he had just walked into. “Sugawara-san, you can leave,” Shōyō urged as he tried to plaster on a brave smile. “It turns out I’m here to meet Oikawa, so I’ll be fine!” 

But Suga frowned and gave an adamant shake of his head. “Absolutely not,” he stated. “I’m staying with you.” His frown turned to puzzlement as he added, “Wait, why would Tobio be emailing Oikawa? And Iwaizumi mentioned a blog?” 

“Suga, you can’t stay,” Shōyō pleaded. He could feel his brave facade cracking with each second that passed; he had to get Suga to leave. “It could be dangerous… and you won’t look at me the same ever again…” 

The upperclassman was quiet, thinking, then said, “You don’t look like you want to deal with this by yourself, though. Besides, have I ever actually made you think I’d be that judgmental, or are you just feeling scared in general? I mean, if anyone is getting judged right now, it’s Oikawa.”

Suga’s compassionate logic brought tears prickling to Shōyō’s eyes. Trust Suga to always know what to say. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible if Suga knew? After all, Shōyō had to assume that Iwaizumi was about to sit in on this conversation as well, and Suga was right that the whole ordeal was terrifying. Having a friend in his corner would be so reassuring. With a hesitant look, the redhead mumbled, “Are you sure?” 

“Of course,” Suga affirmed with a smile. “Besides, after that display, I think if I never learned the reason for it I would die of curiosity.” 

It brought a weak smile to Shōyō’s face. “OK,” he breathed. “But you have to promise _never_ to tell anyone about anything we talk about today. Not even Daichi.” Suga’s eyebrows went up but he agreed easily and the alien slumped in relief. After a second thought, he threaded his arm through Suga’s and pressed himself close to his side, careful to keep his feelings to himself. 

They only waited five more minutes before Oikawa burst through the cafe doors with Iwaizumi slinking behind, two drinks cradled each. “Here, sugar coffee,” he rushed as he thrust the giant drink into Suga’s free hand. “Hot chocolate for you, Chibi-chan. I didn’t know what you wanted.” Once his hands were free, he swiped his own drink from Iwaizumi’s waiting hands and fixed his hungry gaze on Shōyō. “Does Sugawara know?” Oikawa prompted.

Shōyō bowed his head, then offered Suga an apologetic smile. “Not yet,” he said. “But I think I need to explain everything from the start anyway.” 

Oikawa took a slow sip from his steaming beverage, then with a decisive nod, stated, “C’mon. There’s a park about fifteen minutes from here. We can get away from the crowds.” 

Shōyō followed dutifully alongside Sugawara, grounded in his solid presence and by the hot drink melting through the ice in his hands. Knowing he was about to tell three other people the absolute truth of his identity was terrifying, but he was still grateful not to be alone. When he’d first come to Earth, disconnected from the vast network of thoughts and feelings of his people, every emotion seemed too large. At home, anything too overwhelming could be shared right away, dissected and confronted in a matter of seconds, but humans didn’t have the luxury. They had to build their own networks of people to trust, then find the words to describe their feelings, which was odd, he thought, considering feelings were inherently meant to be _felt._ It’d taken Shōyō a while to come to terms with, and it wasn’t as if he was comfortable with it yet. 

It was part of what made Tobio such a great friend. Despite how strange it was for him as well, he took it in stride and let Shōyō share what he wanted, Linked like he was used to. When Tobio shared back, too, it made Shōyō feel like he was home again. His friend had been floating adrift when they met, unsupported and closed off, so it made Shōyō exceedingly happy when he was the trusted person with whom Tobio chose to share. Sharing was so much more difficult for humans, but it just made it all the more special. 

The silent walk of the four unlikely acquaintances slowed as Oikawa led them into the park. With the melting slush and cold wind, it was mostly empty: the perfect location for a clandestine talk. Shōyō’s eyes flitted past Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who looked thrilled and confused, respectively, to rest on Suga’s kind and open face. It filled Shōyō with a sudden spike of bravery that had abandoned him earlier, and he blurted, “So, I’m an alien.” 

Suga appeared unsurprised, almost a bit confused about the admission. “I think it’s pretty obvious that you’re not a native,” Suga replied with a nod at Shōyō’s mop of naturally red hair. “Though, I think the current PC term is immigrant?”

Shōyō inhaled shakily, set down his hot chocolate, then took hold of Suga’s free hand, meeting his confused eyes. “No,” he sighed. “I mean, like an _alien._ From space,” and, very slowly, he let a tendril of his thoughts snake through their joined hands and Link them. It wasn’t much, just a few images of deep space, his sleek, blue ship and his first meeting with Tobio, the contentment when he looked at the stars, when he flew. Suga almost fumbled his coffee, jerking his hand from Shōyō’s with a yelp. Trepidation renewed its stranglehold on Shōyō’s heart at the wide-eyed disbelief painted on Suga’s face, but the older boy didn’t say anything, squeezing his eyes shut and snapping them open like he couldn’t reconcile what he was seeing with what he saw. 

“How did you do that?” Suga finally breathed. 

“Do what!” Oikawa demanded, unable to keep his silence any longer as he leapt into Shōyō’s personal space. “What’d you do? Do it to me!” 

Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa by the jacket with a hiss of, “Ease up.” 

Shōyō fidgeted his fingers in front of him, face ducked into his scarf. “It’s a thing I can do. Sharing my thoughts and feelings. Images and stuff, if we’re touching. On my home planet, everyone can do it all the time.” He lifted his amber eyes cautiously to Suga’s and repeated, “I’m an alien. From a different galaxy.” He was vaguely aware of Oikawa bouncing excitedly beside him and whispering to Iwaizumi, but it was Suga’s reaction he was worried about. 

His upperclassman screwed up his face. “So… that was your spaceship? The blue one?” he asked. “And Kageyama was the first person you met?” 

“Yeah…” 

Suga exhaled, slow and long, as he ran his fingers through his silvery hair. “Is there a bench? Because I think I need to sit.” Iwaizumi looped his arm around Suga as he wobbled and directed him to a nearby bench, Shōyō and Oikawa right behind. Once he’d taken a seat next to Sugawara, Iwaizumi broke his quiet observation. “Are you saying you actually think you’re an alien?” he questioned, tone dubious. 

“When he held my hand it was like I was seeing _space,_ ” Suga interjected. “I could see it like I was looking out of a window. And I was touching a little blue spaceship surrounded by trees and I felt all warm and happy when I saw it, like I _knew_ it. Stuff I’ve never seen before, Iwaizumi. How could that be made up?” He stared doubtfully at his coffee and muttered, “Unless there’s something wrong with my coffee.” 

Beside Shōyō, Oikawa breathed a low string of exclamations, but Iwaizumi only glanced doubtfully between them. Chewing his lip, Shōyō offered up his hands, palms up, to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The Seijoh setter clasped it right away, and Iwaizumi followed suit a moment later after receiving a filthy glare from Oikawa. “Don’t hold back on me, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa muttered. 

Despite Oikawa’s demand, Shōyō stuck with something simple but different from what he’d chosen for Suga: his home cityscape, his family, but always the stars. He kept his eyes trained carefully on Iwaizumi, who blinked back at him with fast-growing shock. Iwaizumi pulled his hand from Shōyō’s with a shared look at Sugawara, but Oikawa clung when he tried to disentangle. “Come on,” Oikawa pleaded. “Show me more alien stuff!”

There was a beat of nervous silence, then: “You’re such a freak, Oikawa. Quit trying to manhandle the kid,” Iwaizumi grumbled. Oikawa pouted, but the joke had eased some of the quiet tension between them. 

“OK. So, you’re an alien and we’re not having some weird group trip because Oikawa put LSD in my coffee,” Suga started, ignoring Oikawa’s protests about being bullied. “What are you doing here? Can you tell the story from the start?”

Shōyō couldn’t resist the tears building in his eyes. “Suga-san,” he warbled, feeling overwhelmed with fondness. Suga ruffled his hair with a gentle smile of his own. A wave of peace settled light over Shōyō’s shoulders; he took a deep breath and began to talk. 

***

By the time Shōyō finished, his three seniors were in concentrated thought: Iwaizumi paced, Oikawa scribbled in a notebook and Sugawara held Shōyō in a warm side embrace. His tale had been punctuated with several instances of Oikawa demanding a Link, which netted them the occasional lingering look from passing strangers. It didn’t phase Shōyō, though. Worry and fear had been replaced with a buzz of excitement to do so, so long had it been that he could share with so many. Still, the excitement didn’t curb the underlying concern that brought them together: the disappearance of one Kageyama Tobio. 

“Alright, here’s my current theory,” Oikawa announced. “First, the key points. Shōyō lands on Earth to escape alien bad guys. Tobio starts emailing me, in all my infinite wisdom, about what to do, because he is dumb. Tobio, being an idiot, gives me, a total stranger, all the details.” He held up his notebook, where he had drawn a crude timeline, the first few points mapped out, then pointed to a series of question marks. “Something happens in here that leads to the last point: Tobio gets kidnapped.” 

“I mean, if Kageyama even got kidnapped, and if it was because of this,” Suga argued. “If he was kidnapped, then for all we know the culprit could be, like, normal child predators.” His face contorted in a disappointed frown. "I can't believe I just said ' _normal child predators,_ '" he muttered.

Oikawa inclined his head at Suga. “Fair point. But for real, if _I_ was a child predator and had to pick between Tobio-chan and Chibi-chan, I would definitely pick Chibi-chan.” Iwaizumi paused in his pacing to fix Oikawa with a disgusted glare. “Not saying I am, _sheesh_ , Iwa-chan! It’s an objective statement for the sake of the argument!” the Seijoh setter protested after shrinking under Iwaizumi’s silent criticism. “A-Anyways, if Tobio was kidnapped by _normal_ child predators, then we just wait for the police to do their stuff. But! If we can entertain that the cause is because Tobio knows too much about an impending alien invasion, then let me present my actual thoughts on what happened.” He inhaled dramatically, posed with his fingers steepled under his chin, then stated, “The government was reading our emails and kidnapped Tobio.”

“Be serious, Shittykawa.” 

“Oh I’m serious, Iwa-Chan.”

“But,” Shōyō interrupted with a timid raise of his hand. “Why would the government kidnap Tobio and not, um, me? Isn’t that what happens in all the stories? And then the alien gets dissected…”

Oikawa pressed a hand to his mouth and grunted, “I can’t handle the image of you watching alien movies! OK, since I’m clearly the expert here, let me walk you through my thought process. I’ll admit this is a lot of conjecture, so get out your tinfoil hat.” 

Shōyō tilted his head and Suga quickly explained, “It means he’s about to ramble like a crazy person.” 

Oikawa nodded, then narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “You’ll come around! Alright. So. We’ve established already that Tobio-chan isn’t the primo kidnapping material that Chibi-chan is, so why am I so sure he was kidnapped? What makes him stand out aside from his freakish volleyball obsession?” He gestured dramatically at Shōyō who conceded with a small nod. “Friends with an alien! But as Chibi-chan has rightly asked, why is Tobio-chan the one missing and not him? Simply speaking, you didn’t get kidnapped because they don’t _know_ you’re the alien. Now, the only proof, it appears, of your true identity would be our emails, right? Based on that, all they know is that someone named _Volleyball96_ knows how to find an alien, so they had to start by tracking him down. And who are ‘they?’ Well, whoever kidnapped Tobio would have to have access to private information. _Obviously_ only the government would have the search algorithms capable of combing the internet for that kind of information with access to private stuff.”

“ _Obviously._ C’mon, Oikawa. You gotta realize how this sounds."

“Shut up, Iwa-chan. That shit is real.”

Sugawara laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Ri-ight, so if we’re running with the government conspiracy theory, why would they even care about Tobio’s emails?” he asked. “There’s got to be thousands of crazy people claiming every day that they met an alien and the end is nigh and whatever. There would have to be something that would make Tobio’s emails sound credible.”

Oikawa’s calculating gaze turned sly as he considered Sugawara’s argument with a lazy grin. “You’re not half bad at this,” he drawled. “Maybe we could-”

“For fuck’s sake, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi hissed. Sugawara disguised a smug smile behind his fist and Shōyō was struck with the impression that he missed something in the exchange. 

“Um, well,” the alien ventured to gain their attention, “Tobio and I did read a bunch of those alien abduction and crop circle stories, which definitely don’t sound real at all to me. But my story is pretty different, so...” he trailed off, unsure of what he was even trying to say. Having three pairs of expectant eyes on him when he didn’t consider himself anywhere near their intelligence was unnerving. It was, of course, why he needed their help and he wanted to contribute, but now he felt deficient. Then, Suga was taking his hand, the nails of which he’d unconsciously been biting, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Don’t worry so hard,” the ashen haired third year said. “This is all just talk.”

“My gut is telling me it’s right, though,” Shōyō insisted. “I just wouldn’t have ever been smart enough to think of all this by myself.”

Suga shook his head. “Hinata, that’s fine. You don’t have to be able to do everything on your own. Frankly, I’m concerned that you’re trying too hard to blame yourself and that’s why Oikawa’s crackpot theory sounds right, since it makes it your fault.”

“Oikawa isn’t saying it would be his fault,” Iwaizumi interjected. “If any of it is true, then the blame goes on the people who kidnapped Kageyama. It’s not like Hinata wasn’t already going to fix the problem before this happened.”

“That was surprisingly sensitive, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa marveled with an amused smirk that caused Iwaizumi to fidget.

It brought a weak smile to Shōyō’s face, too. He wasn’t sure he believed Iwaizumi’s assertion, but it was a nice thought. He’d already told them how pathetic both his ideas had been; he hadn’t been any closer to solving the problem before Tobio’s disappearance than he was after it. Never would he have dreamed of this occurrence, though. He’d just… thought he had a little more time. 

At his side, Suga crossed his arms and mumbled to him, a bit worriedly, “I hope you know I wasn’t trying to imply that it was your fault, Hinata.” 

“I know, Suga-san.” 

Oikawa, who had been observing quietly for the most part, spoke up, “I also want to clarify that I don’t think Hinata did anything wrong. Of course I’m going to think I’m right, and I can’t help how convincing of a public speaker I am. I’m just working with the information we’ve been given and my belief of how things work, which is, admittedly, a bit different. However, we’re literally dealing with _aliens,_ Sugawara, of which there is undeniable proof. So if that doesn’t necessitate thinking outside the box, then I don’t know what does.” 

Suga cocked his head at Oikawa and regarded him in silence. Shōyō met his eyes a moment later and his upperclassman offered him a resigned smile and shrug. “Well, sounds like our resident volleyball idiot got himself kidnapped by the government.”

A short laugh escaped him, the first the alien made all day. The tension which kept insinuating its hold on them lifted once more, and even more when Iwaizumi added, “If it makes you feel any better, Sugawara, I thought Oikawa was crazy when he told me why we were coming here today. Now I’m just wondering why the government couldn’t have kidnapped him too.” 

“Now that’s just rude, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa complained, though his lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “In their eyes, I’m just an innocent bystander.” 

“In their eyes you were just another tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy theorist,” Suga corrected. 

“You are so much meaner than Iwa-chan.” 

“That’s because Iwaizumi likes you.” 

Shōyō chuckled at the constipated expression on Iwaizumi’s stoic face, obviously torn on how to respond. He decided that he was glad he’d talked to all three of them. Despite not being certain of the nature of Tobio’s disappearance, what he’d said to Suga was true: the theory Oikawa had provided felt right to him, even with the lack of proof. He even felt empowered when Iwaizumi asked, “So how would we go about getting Kageyama back if he was in government custody?” But Oikawa seemed to falter at the question and the quiet that settled over them made Shōyō’s heart drop. “C’mon Oikawa,” Shōyō pleaded, unable to keep the tone of desperation from his voice. “The government can’t just _kidnap_ people! We talked to the police; they’re going to find him! He’s going to come back home soon, right?”

“Listen, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa said with more delicacy that Shōyō thought him capable, “I’m not saying he won’t, but we could be talking about some shady and powerful people. They can probably pull a lot of strings to try and get what they want. Police might not be able to do anything.”

“Oikawa,” Suga warned. 

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it,” Oikawa defended. 

Even Iwaizumi shot a concerned glance towards Shōyō as he added, “Yeah, but, it wouldn’t be impossible to find him, right?”

Any of the good feelings Shōyō had earlier in their conversation withered when he realized exactly how they could test Oikawa’s theory. “Oikawa,” he whispered. “Remember what you said to Tobio early on? About what I should do if I wanted to keep people safe?”

The Seijoh setter looked puzzled, but only until his handsome features fell into an angry frown. “No, Shōyō. Tobio was right: I didn’t know it was you. That changes everything.”

“It doesn’t, though, does it?” Shōyō said. “We could know for sure if the government has him _and_ get him back at the same time if I said I would make a deal to turn myself in. I could send an email on his account with my demands and if they’re really behind it, they’d see it.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hinata!” Suga scolded. “Kageyama wouldn’t want that. You said you could, like, blow stuff up so go with his plan of _fighting back_! If there’s no threat then they won’t have a reason to keep him.” 

”And leave Tobio by himself until then? What if something happens to him and I could’ve done something?” Shōyō protested. The idea alone almost had him on the verge of panic; he could feel it clawing at his throat. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him,” he finished, voice strained and thin. 

An uncomfortable quiet fell over the group and nobody could meet his gaze. Suga shuffled back onto the bench next to Oikawa and dropped his head into his hands, while Iwaizumi resumed pacing. Shōyō almost wanted to yell at them to say anything, but he knew the urge welled from the overwhelming dread he’d been feeling since Oikawa hinted at the situation’s impossibility. They had to know, as well as he did, that he was right, too. That the easiest solution was one only he could enact. 

“Hey, Hinata,” Iwaizumi’s voice called suddenly. Shōyō met his gaze and a spike of worry shot through him at the scarcely concealed panic on Iwaizumi’s face. “How did you get in touch with Oikawa?”

“Um, I emailed him. Why?” 

Oikawa’s head shot up, eyes wide as saucers. “Oh, shit. _Oh,_ shit! How did I not realize that sooner?!” 

Shōyō frowned, “But it was only one email. We started texting after that.” 

With a string of curses, Oikawa pounded his fist into his forehead several times then brought his phone from his pocket. “Rookie mistake,” he grimaced. “The number is registered to me.” 

Suga grabbed Oikawa’s arm. “There’s no way anyone could track that, right? That’d be crazy!”

Oikawa leveled him with a withering glare and retorted, “If the police can, the government _certainly_ can. We need to go.” 

Iwaizumi, who had retreated closer to the group, cleared his throat. “I asked because, uh, it might be a little late for that.” 

Shōyō, Suga, and Oikawa followed Iwaizumi’s gaze, set ahead where they had entered the park. Even in the brisk and slushy afternoon, there had been people milling about, but Shōyō shivered as he realized it had since emptied. Beyond the barren trees and fence line, even the sidewalks and streets around the park were empty, save for several nondescript black vans. “Maybe we should walk the other way,” the redhead whispered. 

His seniors nodded in agreement and the four set off at a hasty pace further into the park. However, when the other entrance appeared they drew up short at the sight of another blacked-out vehicle blocking the gate. Shōyō’s heart was beginning to pound in earnest, and the others fared no better: Oikawa clung tightly to Iwaizumi’s arm, and Suga took Shōyō’s hand tightly in his. “It’s alright,” the ashen-haired boy assured, though his voice cracked and the color was draining from his face. “East side entrance. Let’s go.” 

But their luck had abandoned them and they stumbled to a halt at the sight of several men in suits approaching them from the only direction left to them. Even in the cold evening air, a nervous sweat beaded along Shōyō’s forehead. “Guys…” he warned, voice low, but he got no answer from his friends, fixated as they were on the approaching group. Of all the times for them to freeze- the alien inhaled, tremulous at first but stable by the time he exhaled. Hadn’t he told himself coming here that this was his battle? If there were a time for him to step up, it was now, and Shōyō extracted his hand from Suga’s and moved in front of his friends. 

When the men in suits paused, the man leading the group regarded them with a friendly smile. “Evening, boys.” His eyes scanned the four of them, and he settled on Shōyō, his smile spreading ever so slightly. “I take it you’re Hinata?” 

“H-h-he’s not anyone imp-portant!” Sugawara stammered as he took a spot at Shōyō’s right side. Pressed against him, Shōyō could feel the violent tremble in Suga’s limbs, and he grazed his hand with feelings of comfort. 

A hand twisted in the back of Shōyō’s jacket, and Oikawa quipped in a voice less confident than usual, “Sorry guys. Mom says not to talk to strangers so if you don’t mind-” He tugged Hinata and Suga back a few steps, the move eliciting a laugh from the man who was speaking to them. 

“I guess I’ll just have to apologize to your mom, then, won’t I, Oikawa Tōru?” he said with a charming smile. “Her name is Youko, isn’t that right? With the pretty blue house and the nursing job at Sendai Kousei?” Shōyō could feel Oikawa go rigid behind him, but his upperclassman didn’t reply. “Interesting blog you run,” the man in the suit continued, his cheerful smile unwavering. “I have to say I’m a fan. You know, if you ever decided to drop the idea of volleyball in South America, you’d probably enjoy astrophysics.” His eyes slid to Iwaizumi and Sugawara, and he added, “That makes your Iwaizumi Hajime and Sugawara Kōshi. I hope you two get the answers you want from U.C: Irvine and Tohoku.” 

Shōyō didn’t consider himself the smartest person around; it was why he’d had to involve others in the first place. But even if the man in front of him looked human, his words were to him as obvious a threat as it had been when the Strik first contacted his people. Rage bubbled up inside him, a slow burn that spread from his heart. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone! “Yeah, I’m Hinata!” he snapped with a confident step forward. All the anger, frustration and helplessness pooled in his hands and he clenched them into glowing fists. “And if you threaten my friends again I’m going to-”

“Cool your jets, Lil’ Red,” the man interjected, his smile growing uneasy and strained. “No need for violence. I’m a peaceful guy. Just here to talk.” 

“You kidnapped Kageyama!” Suga countered firmly. 

The man let his eyes shift lazily towards Suga as he shook his head and said, “Kidnapped is a strong word.” 

“Kidnapped is exactly the right word,” Hinata growled. “Where is he? If you hurt him, you’re going to regret it!” 

“I haven’t laid a hand on Kageyama,” the man drawled, but his smile was too sly for Shōyō’s liking. 

The redhead scowled, but Iwaizumi grabbed his left arm and hissed, “Don’t do anything crazy.” 

“But they have Tobio!” Shōyō snapped. The power in his hands was burning, begging to be released. Preferably in the direction of the man in the suit. 

“Why don’t we talk?” the man asked, throwing his hands open in a non threatening gesture. “There’s a lot to talk about. Namely this invasion that’s threatening to destroy Earth. You know there’s only a week before the Strik are here, don’t you?”

The light in Shōyō’s hands flickered and dissipated as cold dread overwhelmed his senses. “Y-You’re lying!” he shouted. 

“Am I?” The man snapped his fingers and one of his colleagues stepped forward, a tablet in hand. After a few presses on the screen, it was flipped towards them, and on it was a figure that haunted Shōyō’s worst memories: the faceless, helmeted visage of the Strik general. The mirrored mask of the helmet cast back the recording screen and created a repeating reflection of itself, while the beautiful, translucent wings behind the creature scattered the blue light behind it like a prism. Then it was speaking, its voice a grating hiss even in the common galactic speech used by everyone in Andromeda. 

Shōyō listened. The communication was succinct, and he squeezed his eyes shut as it ended. The man hadn’t been lying; the enemy fleet was almost there, and threatening violence if Earth didn’t procure one red-headed alien refugee. What did Shōyō expect, though? He knew they would show up some time. He _knew_ it. If he hadn’t been so desperate for more time with the friends he’d made on Earth, Shōyō wouldn’t have been so blind to the obvious facts: he should’ve gone long ago. Behind him, Oikawa whispered his name and Suga gently jostled his side. Reluctantly, he turned around, his amber gaze shifting between the other three boys, and murmured, “I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t do anything,” Suga stressed. “Stop apologizing.” 

He didn’t want to argue in front of the besuited man and his lackeys, so Shōyō shrugged as if he agreed. The reality was, he could feel his overworked eyes threatening to blur with tears, and he wanted nothing more than for his friends’ comfort. Before they’d been confronted with this encounter, Shōyō had already concluded that only he could resolve the trouble in which Tobio found himself. Now the stakes were amplified; he’d brought danger to Suga, Oikawa and Iwaizumi too. The alien set his shoulders and put every ounce of warmth and confidence into his smile he could muster as he said, “It’s going to be OK.”

Suga touched his arm. “Shō-” 

“Hey!” Shōyō called as he whipped back around to face the man wearing the black suit and patient smile. “You probably already know what I’m going to say. You have to promise you won’t interfere with my friend’s lives. No hurting them or their families. No kidnapping or experiments or anything like that.” To belabor his point, he gathered some energy in his palm, just enough to fire at a nearby tree and blast a smoldering hole through the trunk. It satisfied him to see the whole group of nameless government agents stagger back in fear and awe. “Or else that’s your face,” Shōyō threatened. Behind him, Suga, Oikawa and Iwaizumi gasped, and Oikawa hissed, “Idiot! Iwa-chan said not to do anything crazy!”

The leader of the suits coughed, straightening his tie and smoothing his generic brown hair back into place. “I… take it, these are your conditions for coming with me,” he surmised. There was a slight crack in the placid facade of his voice that gave Shōyō a sick sense of triumph. 

“That’s not all. I want to see Tobio and want to watch him go home,” the redhead added. “After that…” He faltered, for a moment, despite his momentary grasp on bravery. He spared a glance over his shoulder, at the stunned expressions on his friends’ faces, and felt the final piece of resolve settle into place. After a self-assured nod, he turned back to the man in the suit and finished, “After that, I’ll go.” 

“One condition of my own,” the man stated. “I want your phones.” 

“Damn it,” Oikawa swore. 

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” the besuited agent teased as he crossed the distance between their groups and held out his hand. When the four of them turned them over, he leveled a knowing look at Oikawa and waggled the phone in front of him to show the rolling video recording. “Figures it would be you.” 

Oikawa gave him a haughty shrug. “Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“I don’t have to tell any of you what can happen if a word of this gets out, do I?” 

They shook their heads and he smiled brightly, then set his hand on Shōyō’s shoulder. “You three want a ride? Afraid me and Lil’ Red are going the opposite way.” 

“I think we’ll pass,” Iwaizumi muttered. 

Shōyō took hold of Suga’s hand and clasped it firmly between his own. “You’ll make sure Tobio is OK, right? I don’t want him to be sad.”

With a rueful smile, Sugawara threw his arms around him, joined by Oikawa and Iwaizumi as the agent gave them a merciful bit of space. “I don’t think you know how much Tobio cares about you, Hinata.”

“Don’t give up,” came Iwazumi’s voice, rough and choked, and Oikawa echoed, “It’s not over yet, Chibi-chan.” 

“I’m afraid it is,” the agent leader interrupted. “Time to go. Tight schedule and all.” 

Shōyō didn’t want to make it any harder on his friends than he had to. He wiped his face before straightening with a proud set to his jaw. “See you later,” he said, smiling, then he let the agent press a hand to his back and lead him away. If he looked back, Shōyō knew the little strength he still possessed would wither, so he kept his eyes straight until they were near where he’d entered the park a lifetime ago. “When can I see him?” he asked. “I want to make sure he’s OK. If you lied-” 

“I’m not the kind of person to go back on my word,” the man advised. “So long as you cooperate.” 

Shōyō shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold in which his bones were steeped, but he stretched his legs and followed. At the park’s entrance waited one of many unremarkable vans, and the man motioned inside once he slid open the door. Shōyō peered inside and a cry of relief fell from his lips. Tobio was slumped inside, his head pressed against the glass and eyes closed in sleep. Shōyō climbed in and pressed a hand to Tobio’s cheek, felt the warmth of his breath but the other boy didn’t rouse. “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded. 

“He’s just drugged up a little,” the man informed. “Didn’t want him doing anything he might regret, you know?” His grin twisted a little when Shōyō glared at him. “Don’t worry, he’s fine. He’s an athlete. It’ll start wearing off by the time we get to his house.” 

The reassurance provided Shōyō a bit more comfort, and he gave a short nod as he settled into the seat next to Tobio. Taking his cue, the man in the suit slid the van door shut and made his way into the passenger seat before nodding at the silent driver. For all his fears, having Tobio under his hands, solid and real, gave Shōyō a sense of peace about his decision. There couldn’t have been a better choice, if this was the one that let Tobio walk away whole and safe. The van lurched into motion and Shōyō took Tobio’s slack hand in his. He couldn’t make a good Link- the drug had made Tobio’s unconscious mind fuzzy and unreceptive- but he wanted to leave Tobio with something to show his boundless appreciation. Shōyō wove together the threads of his happiness: to see him again, to have played volleyball with him, to have met him at all. His fondest memories joined too, though when he thought about their competitions and promises they were too tinted with grief for all the things they wouldn’t get to do. Shōyō pushed that aside quickly, reached out through their connected hands and tied his feelings like a ribbon to the edge of Tobio’s thoughts. He wasn’t sure if that would work the way he hoped, but it was all he could do. He absently stroked his thumb over the hands Tobio cared for meticulously and let himself dream a little longer that things were different. 

It seemed too soon that they were parking outside the Kageyama household, and like promised, Tobio stirred when the van halted across the street. A sliver of warmth lit up Shōyō’s face when Tobio’s fingers clenched around his own and his sharp eyes fluttered, still unfocused and soft. Shōyō threw his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders and squeezed with everything he had. Tobio’s arms flopped uselessly in his lap but he mumbled, “Shō?”

“Yep!” he chirped, even if he was again on the edge of tears. “I missed you a lot, stupid.” Tobio grunted, pressing his nose into Shōyō’s neck in lieu of words he couldn’t form. “You gotta go home now, Tobio. Your mom is gonna be so happy.” Tobio mumbled something incoherent but Shōyō caught a glimpse of confusion in his blue eyes when Shōyō released him. “I wish…” he faltered, then pressed on, “I wish we got more time together.” 

“Time to move out of the way,” the besuited man ordered with a cheerful smile. “I’ll take it from here.” 

“Can’t I go say goodbye?” he pleaded as the man unbuckled the uncoordinated and semi-conscious Tobio from his seat. 

The man’s smile turned chilly as he pulled one of Tobio’s arms over his shoulder to keep him upright. “I don’t have to tell you what happens to all your little friends or to Kageyama Mayumi if you fight me on this, right? This was the deal.”

A chill went down Shōyō’s spine, but he was determined not to show his fear and settled for scowling back in silent defiance. He pressed himself to the glass of the van and watched as the stranger dragged Tobio stumbling up the sidewalk and knocked. He could almost hear the excited and grateful tone of Mayumi’s voice as she listened to whatever lie Shōyō was sure the man was telling. Anger seethed in his chest when the man entered, presumably to deposit Tobio inside. A short time later he emerged, backlit briefly as Mayumi bowed deeply, then the light was gone, the door shut, and Shōyō realized it was over. 

“Alright, kiddo,” the man said as he hopped back into the van. “What do I call you?”

It almost made him scoff; as if Shōyō would gift this man his true name. “ _Hinata Shōyō_ ,” he stressed.

“Hah. Sure, assimilation and all that. Well _Hinata,_ ready to go?” 

Shōyō let his head fall against the glass, his breath fogging it as he breathed, “No.”

The man hummed as if he sympathized but motioned to his partner. “Drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks around and slowly puts on tinfoil hat* 
> 
> Feb. 17th was actually a Sunday in 2013 (HQ timeline puts the main story happening 2012-13, apparently). I did not plan that but I’m super happy it worked out that way. 
> 
> If you ever need a good real sedative FOR STORY-WRITING PURPOSES, I recommend Ketamine. They use it in hospitals/ambulances for agitated patients, it’s got a quick onset and wears off fairly quickly too. Though I mean, it’s highly irresponsible to not monitor vitals after but whateeeevs.


	11. Black Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always thought that if someone were going to torture me, all they would have to do is threaten to pull my teeth out and I would cave. There’s no teeth-pulling in this chapter, just remarking upon torture methods for no reason whatsoever. Nope, none at all.

_With leaden limbs and a foggy head, Tobio stirred. He was surrounded on all sides by plush warmth and he burrowed deeper into it. When was the last time he wanted to sleep in from practice? He rolled over, drifting back into darkness—_

_BAM_

_Tobio jolted awake, immediately cradling his pounding head with a groan. Upright was a struggle and he wanted to fall back into his sheets, but another loud slam against the wall of his room had him flinching. He cracked open his eyes and winced at the unforgiving overhead lights that met him. His heart, already pounding from the shock, threatened to crack his ribs when he realized the room in which he laid was wholly unfamiliar. Memories flooded back with the sting of his nose: the stranger at the door, a short lived fight, losing consciousness. He must have been drugged._

_He looked around, slowly so as not to disturb his head. Aside from being oppressively bright, the room was mostly empty. Bed, toilet, sink. Dismal._

_Prison like._

_“Fuck,” he swore._

_As if summoned, the door to his room swung open, and a man entered with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about the noise,” he said. He wore a simple black suit and was of average height and build. Normal dark hair and an objectively common face, the epitome of the average Japanese male. He smiled, his unmemorable face splitting in a friendly way. “But I’m glad to see you’re awake, Kageyama Tobio.”_

  
  
  


Tobio flinched as his mother pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. “You have to eat,” she said. 

He stared down at the bowl in front of him. Pork curry, his favorite. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he forced himself to take a bite, chew, and swallow. Across the table, both Mayumi and Miwa exchanged a look and resumed watching him. It made his skin prickle, the weight of their eyes. “Do you remember what happened, Tobio?” Miwa asked. 

He shook his head vehemently, not trusting himself to speak, and took another bite to keep his mouth occupied. It wasn’t true, after all, though some parts were fuzzy around the edges, like trying to recall a dream. He continued eating despite the protests of his churning stomach. 

“Well, I think we’ve met your whole volleyball team now. Everyone has come by to check on you while you were… recovering,” his mother stated brightly. “Some of them left you cards.” 

“Hinata?” he croaked, the first word he’d spoken since he woke up, and her face fell. 

“Not yet,” she advised as she renewed her positive tone. “I’ll call him later, OK?”

Tobio nodded, but there was something that nagged at him from the haziest part of his memory. The harder he focused on it the more it eluded, leaving vague feelings of anxiety in its wake. With a worried frown at his half-eaten food, he set down his spoon and rasped, “I’m not that hungry. Sorry, Mom.” 

“It’s OK. I’ll save it for later,” she said as she moved to clean up. “Do you want to sleep?” 

Tobio nodded gratefully and made his way back upstairs. He could still feel the prickle of eyes on his back. 

_“I bet you already know why you’re here,” the man said. He still looked friendly enough, but there was something sharp and sly about his smile, Tobio thought. He_ _had a solid idea why he might have been kidnapped, but he had already committed not to say anything. Tobio turned his sleepy gaze into a defiant glare; the man’s grin didn’t falter. “It’s because you’re the only person in all of Japan that can help us,” he explained. “Would you like to know why?”_

_Against his better judgment, Tobio muttered, “I’m not helping you.” Damn. He hadn’t meant to say anything; he just wanted to sleep._

_Nonplussed, the man shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re not helping me,” he stated. “You’re helping your mom and sister. Your friends on your volleyball team. The 7Billion other people on the planet. Do you want to be the reason they all die?”_

_Tobio lifted his gaze, skin bruised and sallow, and the man responded with his cold smile, "Tell me where to find him.”_

  
  


Tobio sifted through the few cards gifted by his teammates. There was one which the team had signed with their readiness to have him back in practice. Another was a poorly hand drawn volleyball with a note specifically from Noya and Tanaka. A pretty get-well card from Kiyoko and Yachi. The last was from his soon to be former upperclassmen, Daichi, Azumane and Suga. It was as much the same as the other cards- glad you’re OK, rest up, go back to practice- but inside the envelope was taped a folded scrap of paper. There was no signature, just a phone number and the message: ‘call ASAP.’

Tobio frowned and set it on his desk in response. He didn’t even have his phone anyway, since it had been confiscated by whoever had taken him. Even if he did, he wasn’t going to call anyone before he got in touch with Hinata. At the thought, his eyes drifted to the messy futon on the floor- Tobio didn’t even bother storing it anymore- and his body followed suit. With Hinata’s blanket clutched to his chest, Tobio laid back in his bed and buried his face in it. 

Every nerve in his body was on edge since coming back from… wherever he’d been. Which was silly, he told himself, since he hadn’t been explicitly in danger, but such logic did not reduce the steady anxiety buzzing under his skin. He inhaled deeply, a swirl of detergent and Hinata filling his lungs. Muscles he hadn’t even known were tense unwound as he focused on breathing, until his face was too warm to stand it any longer and he surfaced for the cool air of his room. Abandoning pretense, he kicked his own blanket to the floor and cocooned himself in Hinata’s. Sleep wasn’t hard to obtain, but it never stayed long. 

  
  
  
  


_Tobio pressed his face into his knees and stifled a frustrated groan. Whatever noise had woken him up the first time was incessant and changing. He might’ve been able to sleep through the glaring lights, but any time he felt himself drifting off — CRACK— came another series of noises through the walls. All night, it happened, or what he assumed was all night, since there were no windows or clocks, nothing that would indicate the passage of time. Just the glaring light and recurring noise. Periodically, the man in the suit would open his door and ask him how he was doing and if he wanted to talk. Each time, Tobio responded with a scowl and the man would shrug and leave._

_He’d lost track of how many times this routine cycled when it changed. “Hey there, Kageyama,” the man greeted as he leaned against the door frame as he had all the times before. It took Tobio several times to focus his eyes enough to glare. How did this fucker look so well rested?_

_“I just wanted to make sure you understand the stakes,” the man continued, entering the room and letting the door shut behind him with a resounding slam. Tobio flinched. “Do you know why it’s so important that you talk with me?”_

_“No,” Tobio slurred before his brain could catch up to his mouth. ‘No,’ worked though, right?_

_In response, the man reached inside his suit jacket, revealing for a second the holster of a gun as he retrieved a folded paper from the inside pocket. “Let me read you this message that was forwarded to me by a colleague at NASA, and you can tell me if any of it rings a bell.” Tobio couldn’t stem the tears that flooded his exhausted eyes as the man read, “‘To Earth, of the Helios System: You are harboring an intergalactic fugitive from what you call the Messier Galactic Cluster. We have tracked him to this area. Turn him over or we will attack, by the glory of the Strik Empire.’”_

“I’m worried about him,” Mayumi said. “He’s sleeping so much and he won’t talk to me.” 

Tobio stared at his socked feet, unable now to step through the hallway and interrupt his mom and sister’s conversation. 

“Well, yeah. Didn’t that detective who brought him home say he got kidnapped? He’s probably traumatized, Mom. Just give him a little more time and then see if he’d want to see a therapist.” 

“ _Therapy_ , Miwa?” 

“Yes, it’s all the rage these days. I go.” Tobio cracked his first smile since he returned home. He wished he had Miwa’s personality. 

“Why?” their mother insisted. 

A short silence followed, but finally Miwa, her voice sharp, answered, “Dad didn’t come home the whole time Tobio was missing.” It wasn’t particularly surprising, Tobio supposed, but hearing it aloud still felt receiving a jump serve with his chest. When Mayumi didn’t reply, Miwa added, “I can't even bring myself to feel sad about it anymore. He’s never been here for anything. Surely you don’t think that doesn’t affect us.”

Her unyielding tone spurred Tobio’s feet to action, loud enough to announce his arrival before coming into the living room. Miwa looked up, as composed as she always was, but Mayumi rushed to her feet. There was a stammered excuse about needing to go to the store to start dinner when she patted him reassuringly on the head as she passed, but her face was red and pinched, her voice tight. Wordlessly he sat next to his sister, who presented her hand palm up, an invitation which he accepted. 

“Did you hear all that?” she asked after a few quiet minutes. He nodded. Miwa sighed, but then the hint of a smile teased the corner of her lips. “I wish Granddad was still alive,” she confessed. “Dad sucks.”

Tobio snorted, but when Miwa chuckled, he found himself following suit. Their giggles turned into laughter which brought tears to his eyes that seemed discontent to stay there. In moments they were rolling down his cheeks and his sister pulled his taller frame in for an awkwardly angled hug. His tears held a bit of everything: the kidnapping, absentee parents, newfound safety, grief and validation. But for once crying felt good, so he let it happen while Miwa rubbed circles into his back. 

When he finally ran out of steam and was sniffling instead, Tobio sat up and wiped his face in his shirt. Miwa dabbed carefully at her watery eyes and clicked her tongue when her fingers came away with smeared mascara. “We’re a damn mess,” she grumbled. “We need your sunshine friend over here.”

The prospect brought a smile back to Tobio’s face. “Did Mom call him yet?”

“Yeah, while you were napping. It went to voicemail, so we’ll have to try again.” Miwa grinned and added, “I’m surprised he isn’t already here considering how glued he was to you at Christmas.” 

Tobio rolled his eyes, but it _was_ disappointing that Hinata hadn’t made an appearance yet. Not even a homemade card, which was something he thought the redhead would’ve enjoyed. “How many days have I been home?” he asked. 

His sister fussed with her hair as she thought, then answered, “Almost three.” 

Nearly three days and everyone except Hinata had visited? “That’s… weird,” he muttered. “He’s usually here all the time.”

Miwa hummed, then ruffled his hair with more force than Tobio expected; he nearly toppled with a yelp. “Don’t worry about it. I bet he’s planning some over the top surprise.” Tobio narrowed his eyes, but stifled a hopeful smile that threatened to ruin the effect. That _did_ sound like something Hinata would do. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. 

  
  
  
  


_Tobio’s head was pounding. Since waking up here, he hadn’t been able to sleep more than twenty minutes at a time. He was losing his shit. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. He threw his pillow over his face and pressed it over his ears, the darkness a blessed but futile reprieve. Soon there would be some kind of horrendous noise that would have him jolting awake, or the man in the suit would return. He hadn’t been back since reading Tobio the threat from the Strik._

_As if on cue, Tobio heard the door open and shut, but he didn’t bother pulling his head out from under his pillow. There was no point. The bed dipped and a hand patted him on the leg; he didn’t have the energy to recoil. “You know, if you’d just talk to me, you’d be able to get some rest,” the man advised, his voice low, soothing. “You could go home and sleep in your own bed.” Tobio didn’t reply, but his breathing became ragged and the pillow suffocating. He could feel his hands trembling as he tried to grind the polyfill and cotton further into his own ears and mouth._

_“All we need to know is where to find the fugitive alien. You know that you know, and we know that you know. All you have to do is talk to me, kiddo."_

_“How?” Tobio gasped as he heaved the pillow across the room. Useless piece of crap couldn’t even suffocate him properly. Was he crying again, was that why his vision was so damn blurry? He tried to sit up and focus on the man in the suit, but his head felt swollen, heavy, like it was going to burst. He crushed his face into his knees and drew his arms around his legs._

_“I’m happy to tell you, Kageyama. There’s no need to get upset,” the man chided softly. “We spent the last week since getting this message looking for information and stumbled on your emails. You went into so much detail that we knew it couldn’t be coincidence. It’s why you’re so important. We only have less than two weeks before we have to turn this fugitive over before we're attacked."_

_“He’s not a_ **_fugitive_** _,” Tobio spat. “He’s my friend.”_

_The man hummed his acknowledgment and rifled his fingers through Tobio’s hair. “I’m sure you think that,” he replied. “You probably think you know him. But he’s clearly dangerous. Just him being here is dangerous.”_

_It was hypnotic, the mollifying touch across his aching head. Tobio felt his shoulders droop. “He’s gonna figure it out,” he mumbled. “He promised not to let anything happen.”_

_The man paused, then asked, “What’s he planning?”_

_It made Tobio laugh, the thought. “Something stupid, probably."_

  
  
  
  
  


When Tobio woke up, it was dark out. He checked the crappy flip phone his mom had picked up for him at the store, a basic prepaid thing like she’d gotten Hinata. 2:23am. His sleep hadn’t been normal since he got back, and now it had been over three days, and almost a week since the kidnapping. He scrolled to his now-meager contacts list and clicked on Hinata’s name which she’d programmed in for him. Voicemail again. The message rolled but he couldn’t bear to hang up: “ _Hi! It’s Shōyō! I’m probably playing volleyball, so leave me a message!”_

“Hinata,” Tobio whispered after the beep. “Where are you?” He fell silent, realized he hadn’t hung up and did so before throwing his arm over his face. No matter what reassurances Miwa had given, something was wrong- he could feel it. He knew Hinata, and there was nothing that would’ve kept him from being here the second he found out Tobio was rescued. Frowning, he flipped on his desk lamp, grabbed the folded piece of paper and dialed. 

Unsurprisingly, it rang several times before it connected. There was a shuffling and a heavy sigh, the person on the other end obviously roused from sleep. “Hullo?” they yawned. 

“Who is this?” Kageyama asked. The man’s voice was familiar but he couldn’t place it right away. Suga-san, maybe? Why else would it have been in his card? But no, he would’ve known Suga’s voice by now. The person on the other end inhaled sharply. There was more rustling, a distant command and another voice snapping irritably in the background. “Hello?” Tobio ventured.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to keep you waiting! I had to put you on speaker.”

“Who is this?” Tobio repeated. “Someone gave me this number and said to call.” 

The person on the other end paused, whispering something to whoever else was in the room. “Well,” he said, “It’s Oikawa. Oh, and Iwaizumi. Say hi, Iwa—” 

Tobio snapped his phone shut and considered throwing it across the room. Of course the voice had been familiar. Why the hell was Oikawa’s number taped inside the card from his _senpai?_ In his hand the phone buzzed, the unknown number scrolling across the screen. With a long-suffering groan he flipped it open and hissed, “What?”

“Don’t hang up; it’s about Hinata!” Oikawa blurted. 

It caught Tobio by surprise and he didn’t reply, at least not intelligibly, since he did offer a nervous, “Uh?” 

“I’m just gonna save us all the trouble and say we know Hinata is an alien,” a gruff voice- Iwaizumi- interjected. 

The only sound across the line was their collective breathing. Tobio could feel the buzzing anxiety working its way back through his chest, trying to claw its way out, and he forced out one shaky exhale after another. Oikawa broke the silence after a moment. “Are you freaking out?”

“Maybe,” Tobio admitted. “Why? Or, How?” Then, “Something's wrong, isn't it? He isn’t here and I-“

“It was my blog. I’m the person you’ve been emailing,” Oikawa interrupted. “Not that any of us knew it. When you went missing, Shōyō reached out to me because he thought I would know what to do. He figured you went missing because of him. Me, Iwa-chan, Shōyō and Sugawara all met up.” 

“Suga-san knows too?”

“Yep. Asked him to give you my new number.”

Tobio processed the news and chewed his lip as he thought. Somehow, the fact that Oikawa was the mystery blogger was the _least_ concerning bit of information in that series of alarming facts. It figured that Hinata would blame himself the minute something went wrong. The alien was bent on taking responsibility for everything, the reminder of which settled heavily in Tobio’s stomach. In reality, it had been his own fault. “They somehow found my emails to you,” he explained. “That’s how they knew that I knew.” 

More to himself than Tobio, Oikawa hissed, “I fucking knew it!” Iwaizumi grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, you’re a fucking genius. Kageyama, are you OK? What did they do to you?”

“I’m… fine,” Tobio mumbled. “Just tired. They wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“What do you mean they wouldn’t let you sleep?” Oikawa asked, his voice sharp. 

“I mean I kept getting woken up every time I tried to go to sleep. It was super bright and there was all this noise,” he explained. 

After a beat of silence, Oikawa growled, “That fucking liar. He said they didn’t do anything to you.” 

“Technically he said they didn’t put a hand on him,” Iwaizumi corrected. 

“Yeah, well, psychological torture is still in the realm of things that aren’t OK!” Oikawa argued. 

“I’m not saying it was OK!”

“I’ll be fine,” Tobio asserted again before the two could continue arguing. “You… didn’t tell me about Hinata…”

Both his upperclassmen were quiet for a moment, then Oikawa said, “Fine! One day you better tell me everything that happened, but for now, about Hinata- well, actually... Shōyō, he…”

Even Tobio, ever ignorant to finer emotions, heard the crack in Oikawa’s voice. It clicked, before he even had to speak: Hinata’s absence and the feeling that something wasn’t right. A soft whimper bubbled at the back of his throat but Tobio made himself swallow and grind out, “Where is he?”

“They threatened all of us, sort of, nothing overt, but still,” Oikawa answered finally. “So he made a deal to go with them if they left you and us alone.” 

Tobio didn’t speak for a long time; he didn’t think he was capable. He had probably cried more in the last week than he had in the whole of his life, and still he could feel tears threatening to spill. He sniffed hard- he did _not_ want Oikawa to hear him crying- but he was unwilling to hang up the phone, too, desperate for some kind of connection. The two upperclassmen whispered to each other, then finally Iwaizumi murmured, “We’re sorry, Kageyama…” 

“They were going to find him anyway,” Tobio confessed in a low voice, and with that he couldn’t keep back the flood of despair that swallowed him. He let the grief and shame bubble out of his mouth, needing to speak even if it was to Oikawa. “I didn’t mean to tell them, but- they knew he’d contacted you and they asked me who had access to my email, and I was so tired, I didn’t… Even if Hinata hadn’t, they-” Tobio couldn’t keep his composure any longer and let out soft, repressed sob as he broke down on the phone. Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi offered several soft reassurances, but Tobio knew the truth. In the end, he’d betrayed his best friend. 

_They almost didn’t set his heart racing anymore, the noises that would wake him up if he dozed too long. Like clockwork, Tobio’s head lolled and he dropped back onto the bed, only to flinch when something screeched from the other side of the wall. He curled up into a ball, hands over his ears as it persisted, growing more insistent, more like a scream. When it finally stopped he found that he didn’t want to shut his eyes. How long had he been here? Felt like a fucking eternity. They had to let him go some time, though. Right? Can't just kidnap people. Maybe he would die when the Strik attacked the planet. The thought was almost welcome in his delirious, sleep-deprived state._

_He didn’t hear the man in the suit come into the room, but heard his voice ask, “Would any of your friends have access to your email?”_

_“Hinata,” Tobio snapped in reply._

_By the time he’d even realized what he said, the man in the suit was long gone. There were no more noises, but he found himself awake anyway from the horror of what he’d done._

Tobio must have fallen asleep on the phone with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. When he awoke, it was still flipped open, mostly dead and showing a fraction of the available minutes he’d had in the beginning. His weary, overworked eyes protested being open but the time showed just after 9am, and he wanted more answers. There were texts from Oikawa advising that he and Iwaizumi had no school on Saturday so they should meet, and another with Suga’s contact info attached. There were several more in the vein of promises and reassurances he appreciated but didn’t believe. Tobio was glad his mother had told him he didn’t have to attend school until he was ready, but the idea of waiting at home, doing nothing for two days, was frustrating. 

Not that there was anything he could do. Hinata had been forced to sacrifice himself in the end anyway. It was exactly what Tobio feared and he-

He forced his thoughts to a grinding halt. Though admittedly the odds weren’t great, he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Oikawa mentioned planning and that had to mean something if Tobio was going to survive the anxious waiting of the next two days. Even worse than being made to wait, was waiting _inside_. The thought of leaving home, where someone could be watching or waiting for him, was enough to keep him contained despite not having touched a volleyball in a week. He settled for tossing the ball in his room until Miwa was sufficiently annoyed by the thudding on the walls. Even if he was almost certain that focus would elude him, Tobio decided he’d make an appearance at school on Friday. As long as he went straight there and back after practice, he would feel safe enough. 

Both his mom and sister were awake with him on Friday morning, each with their own pleased smile. It made him bristle as he sat down to eat breakfast and he grumbled, “You don’t have to stare.”

“We’re just glad you’re feeling well enough for school!” their mother exclaimed as she watched him eat. “You know you don’t have to go until Monday if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to go to practice,” he replied. It was only partially true: the gym didn’t hold the same appeal knowing that Hinata wouldn’t be there, maybe wouldn’t be there ever again. What Tobio really wanted was to find Suga-san in person, without the threat of government agents listening in or following. Even after being reassured by Oikawa that a prepaid phone was difficult to track, he wasn’t going to take the risk. 

Mayumi hummed her approval, reluctant as it was. “Since you’ll be at school, I think I’ll check in at work today,” she advised. “Do you feel safe-”

“I’ll be fine,” Tobio interrupted.

“And I’ll still be here when he gets home,” Miwa reminded. 

Tobio scowled into his food but didn’t add anything else. Perhaps he was a little grateful to know he wouldn’t be alone, but he hated being so glaringly babied. Heaving a sigh, he left his food half finished and pushed his way from the table. “I’m going,” he muttered. 

“Come back safe,” his family chorused. 

The nervous prickle that persisted around Tobio seemed to grow as he biked towards the school, and it settled in as the eyes of his home room classmates fell on him. He’d only been out for a week, and he was sure that teachers wouldn’t have announced the reason for his absence, but it seemed his peers were trying to pry the truth from him with the weight of their stares. He really just needed to make it to lunch, he reminded himself as he steadfastly glowered into his notebooks. At lunch he could find Sugawara and finally talk to someone about what happened- someone whose voice he actually cared to hear. 

Despite the obvious curiosity of his cohort, his known reputation for being unapproachable worked as intended. No one dared ask about his abrupt sabbatical, though there were a number of noisy whispers which he steadfastly ignored. When the bell rang for the lunch hour, he bolted from his seat and darted towards the third years’ wing of the school. Peering into each room, Tobio finally paused when he saw the ash-blonde hair of his favorite upperclassman. “Suga-san!” he called. 

Sugawara stopped in the middle of a joke to Daichi, who was sitting on his desk, then jerked to his feet with a clatter. Without preamble, Suga swept Tobio into a fierce hug. “You crazy idiot!” he cried as he released Tobio to punch him in the arm. “I’m so glad you’re OK!” Another punch, to Tobio’s chest this time. 

“Can we talk?” Tobio wheezed. Suga’s incoming fist to Tobio’s other arm was caught as their former captain joined them.

“Quit hitting him,” Daichi scolded as he pulled Tobio into a hug of his own. “Glad to see you up and running, Kageyama! How-” 

“Sorry, but I really have to talk to Suga-san,” Tobio interjected with as much politeness as he could manage. It still earned a puzzled frown from Daichi, who looked seconds from arguing until Suga seized Tobio by the arm with energetic and exaggerated nods and a cry of, “We’ll be right back, Daichi! See you!” before he dragged Tobio outside. 

When they determined that they were sufficiently alone behind the storage shed for the lawn equipment, Suga whirled on him with wide, panicked eyes. “Did you call Oikawa?” he screeched. 

“Of course!” Tobio replied hotly. “Why couldn’t you have left me your number?”

Suga shook his head and began pacing in tight circles. “Oikawa’s the one who figured everything out,” he explained. “He seemed like the best choice! I feel like I'm being watched or something and obviously _I’m_ freaking out but he and Iwaizumi were like, fucking unfazed! Kageyama, what the _hell_? This is totally insane.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“You sound completely unbothered too!” Suga snapped. 

Tobio glanced skyward, then shrugged. “I think I reached a point where I’m low-key freaking out constantly.” 

Dragging a hand through his silvery hair, Suga forced out a sharp laugh. “That’s fair, I guess. I haven’t figured out what to tell the team about Hinata.”

Tobio’s insides twisted unpleasantly, and he gnawed at his bottom lip before saying, “I don’t know either. Because I don’t want to give up hope that he’ll be back.” 

“Kageyama, he might not-”

“Don’t say that, Suga-san,” Tobio growled. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. He’s not going to give up either.” 

Suga regarded him with a look that was tentative but still hopeful. After a moment of quiet reflection, he puffed his cheeks and sighed, “Your faith is contagious. Alright. Maybe we should think of something of our own so we don’t just go with whatever harebrained idea Oikawa is concocting. He said the words ‘rescue mission’ more than once, and I would kinda like to avoid dying if at all possible.”

The bitter knot in Tobio’s stomach unwound. “I was thinking that Hinata was probably going to have to go back to his ship at some point,” he theorized. “What if we caught him there and made sure he could get away before he has to go with the Strik?”

Suga hemmed, eyes squinting as he thought. “Maybe. I feel like that’s treading kind of close to ‘I don’t want to die’ territory, though. How would we possibly steal him away from government agents? It’s not like he’d be alone.”

“Oh, right.” Tobio frowned, because that hadn’t occurred to him. He was still envisioning a world where Hinata was making this decision on his own. “Do you think Oikawa has a gun?”

“Kageyama!” Suga looked appalled, then begrudgingly thoughtful. “Well, maybe Iwaizumi? Doesn’t he seem more the type?”

“No way. Iwaizumi is nice.” 

“Um,” a low voice intervened, causing both Tobio and Suga to jump away from each other. “Why are you talking about guns?”

Both setters paled at the sight of Daichi, arms crossed and glowering from the other end of the shed. “Wh-what are you talking about!” Suga retorted with a crack in his falsely incredulous tone. He directed imploring hazel eyes to Tobio, who gave him a wide-eyed, frantic shake of his head. He was a terrible liar! What could Suga possibly expect him to say? Suga glared at him, then turned back to Daichi and said, “ _Uuuh._ Why… Why did you even follow me! Yeah! I said we’d be back.”

At that, Daichi’s scowl wavered and a pink flush slowly bloomed on his cheeks. “I, um, you just, you were acting weird! And it’s been, like, fifteen minutes. What, uh, are you doing…?” The former captain’s brown eyes shifted uncertainly between Suga and Kageyama in a way that left Tobio feeling alarmed. 

“Nothing!” they both blurted in a way that even Tobio recognized was suspicious, which Suga attempted to rectify by adding, “We’re just talking about, um. Volleyball.” 

Daichi’s frown shifted from doubtful to angry, and he seethed, “Volleyball? I'm not stupid, Suga. You're lying.”

The accusation earned a glare from Sugawara, and Tobio tensed at the fight that was brewing right in front of him. “Uh, Daichi-san,” Tobio mumbled, but Daichi turned the force of his angry stare towards him and Tobio withered. 

“Hey! Don’t be mean to Kageyama, you jerk,” Suga shouted as he set his arms akimbo and moved in front of Tobio. 

Daichi snapped, “Why so defensive?”

Suga threw his hands up with a disgusted grunt. “Because he’s our _kouhai_ and he didn’t do anything to warrant you mean-mugging him? For fuck’s sake, Daichi: We’re just trying to have a _private_ talk, so if you don’t mind-” He waved a slender hand to shoo the other boy away. 

Tobio heard the two continue to bicker in front of him, but he rolled his eyes skyward to avoid the uncomfortable feeling of being stuck in the middle. Into the murky winter sky he squinted. Then he frowned and turned, craning his neck to see around the roof of the shed while Suga and Daichi's argument turned into shouting. Swallowing hard, Tobio tugged at Sugawara’s jacket sleeve until the older boy finally whipped around with a cry of, “What!”

“I think we have a problem, Suga-san,” Tobio noted, unwilling to tear his eyes from the sky. Both his _senpai_ followed his gaze.

“Shit,” Suga breathed. In silence, Tobio dragged his upperclassmen out into the courtyard, where it seemed the rest of the student body was slowly gathering.

“What is _that_?” Daichi gasped. 

After numerous glimpses into Hinata’s vivid memories, _‘that,'_ Tobio knew, was the glossy black flagship of the Strik fleet.


	12. Star Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, I’m sorry this took so long. At first I was just dragging my feet about editing because I didn’t want it to end. Then life started kicking my ass again and I wasn’t/am not coping well and it took me a while to finish. 
> 
> But it’s here! The last major chapter! Thanks for sticking it out so far in this odd, alien journey!
> 
> There was a small detail from chapter 7 that comes into play here which I should’ve played up a little bigger...

The school was cast in shadow as the Strik warship eclipsed the noonday sun far overhead. It was massive, easily the length of a skyscraper and twice as wide, but silent despite the blinding engines that held it aloft. Its sides were smooth and sloped into its multiple descending decks and into sharp, cruelly hooked wings which curved from the sides. Windows lined the decks and front of the ship, only discernible by their mirrored surfaces which reflected the steel-blue February sky. The dreadnought was flanked on all sides by smaller ships with a similar look as the fleet’s principal ship, though they were flatter, smaller, with angled noses and pointed tails. 

Tobio was aware that he should have appeared more shocked. It seemed as though the whole school, staff and students alike, were outside now, their voices blurring into a noisy rustling around him. Despite the development, the only thing on which he could focus was how he was out of time. Why were the Strik even on Earth if Hinata had already agreed to go with them? Why had the universe seen fit to take his closest friend if this was how it was going to end? 

He came crashing back into reality as Suga dug a hand into his arm and squeezed. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked in a low voice, earning an incredulous look from Daichi. The younger boy wasn’t sure if he could find his voice, though, and only nodded. Suga swore, then flipped open his phone and punched in a number. “Hey! You seeing this?” he asked. “I’m here with Kageyama.”

“Is that Oikawa?” Tobio asked, and Suga nodded as he put the call on speaker. 

“Tobio-chan!” came Oikawa’s voice, a little shrill with panic. “I think the Strik are up to something!”

The two setters shared a look up at the sky, then another at each other. “Yeah, I’d say that makes sense,” Suga grumbled. 

“D-Do you two know something about this?” Daichi cried, though he was quickly shushed by the threatening look Suga flashed. 

“They might be planning to invade whether or not they have Chibi-chan,” Oikawa theorized in a rush. “But now if they do get their hands on him, it could be even worse for us than we thought! How far are you from Chibi-chan’s ship? We have to stop that asshole in the suit from letting him get taken!”

Tobio considered. “Maybe thirty minutes if I biked and ran as fast as possible? It’s a twenty minute walk from the park by my house.”

He could hear Oikawa mumbling something, to Iwaizumi if Tobio had to guess. “Sugawara,” Oikawa addressed, “could you steal a car?”

“Maybe?” Suga mumbled, though Daichi, who was grasping to what he could from the conversation, sputtered, “You really can’t.” 

“Wait, scratch that thought,” Oikawa interrupted. “Iwa-chan says the roads here are already packed with people trying to get home. You’ll probably be faster on the bike. You’re going to have to get there and intercept Chibi-chan!”

“If he takes a bike I won’t be able to go with him,” Suga snapped into the receiver. “I’m not sending him to deal with government agents by himself, because Hinata definitely wouldn’t be alone!”

It was impossible for Tobio to keep his eyes from heading skyward as Oikawa and Suga debated. This was a far cry from how Tobio had expected the arrival of the Strik to occur. He’d imagined the aliens waiting somewhere beyond the atmosphere for Hinata to fly willingly into their arms. That’s how the government agent who’d kidnapped him had made it sound: the Strik were demanding that Earth turn Hinata over, not that they were going to escort him off the planet, or invade regardless of Earth’s response. There was no way the government would’ve gone along with something that dangerous. 

Still, the worst case scenario was happening with Hinata caught in the middle, but the realization settled over Tobio’s shoulders like a calming blanket. Uncertainty was the enemy, but this business overhead left no room for hesitation or questions. It was like the beginning of a volleyball match: there was nothing more that could be done except to play and win. Admittedly, winning in this scenario was considerably more important that in a volleyball match, but the concept was the same for him. A determined smile crossed his face. “I can do it,” Tobio prompted. Suga opened his mouth to argue, but Tobio shook his head. “We’re already out of time.” 

Suga grimaced, then stuffed the phone in his pocket so he could grab Tobio by his arms. “Then you have to hurry!” he urged. “Don’t stop for anything!”

Daichi gaped, looking between Tobio and Suga before clinging to Suga and shaking him as he squeaked, “Why aren’t you two freaking out! That’s-! Those are-!” 

“Spaceships, yeah,” Suga confirmed, patting Daichi’s hand. “Kageyama, you got this. Now, go!”

The command was enough to propel Tobio into motion. With a shaky inhale, he nodded his affirmation with what confidence he could muster and took off at a sprint around the crowd of his peers. It seemed like seconds later he was fumbling off the bike lock with fingers already numb from the cold and taking off as fast as he could pedal. 

Tobio’s lungs and legs screamed as he maneuvered the bike through the quickly crowding streets, but he didn’t dare lessen his pace. Even if deep down he questioned what he could actually do, he knew he had to make it to Shōyō’s ship before the alien was gone. If Oikawa was right- and he had been right a lot lately- then the Strik invading regardless of whether or not Shōyō complied meant one thing: he had to fight. If all Tobio could do was remind his friend that he’d promised not to let the fate of his home befall Earth, then that was enough. Shōyō had expressed his fear before that he wouldn’t be able to do anything, but Tobio believed in him. He knew it the same way he knew Shōyō would be there for him on and off the volleyball court, innately and wholly. Shōyō could do this. 

When he reached the park, Tobio flung himself from the bike and into a run along the barely noticeable trail through the woods. A second to check his watch would have been too long to spare, so he kept his focus ahead, always ahead through the brush and trees to the boy who would be waiting on the other side. Suga had warned that Hinata would be accompanied by agents, and the rumble of voices he heard in the seconds before reaching Hinata’s ship gave him just enough warning. Tobio channeled the last of his energy into a final sprint and burst past the first ring of surprised suits who guarded the area. For a moment, he lunged unhindered at the open door of the blue vessel. Then he was barrelling into a solid body and tumbling to the ground. 

Amid the scuffle that ensued with one, two, then three agents, Tobio shouted, voice cracking and desperate, “Hinata!” It didn’t take much for Tobio to be wrestled under control, but he wasn’t going to stop struggling until he saw Hinata, aliens on Earth’s doorstep be damned. He wouldn’t let Valentine's Day be the last image he had of his best friend. It wasn’t enough to be left with a handful of memories and the vague warmth and happiness he felt when he recalled the time they’d spent together. 

From the ground and around a mouthful of grass and clover, Tobio saw a flash of orange from the ship’s doorway and moments later the pressure on his back was released. Sound was no more than a faint buzz in Tobio’s ears as he stumbled to his feet and into Shōyō’s open arms. Solid. Real. Noise and feeling flooded Tobio’s senses as he collapsed against Shōyō’s small but sturdy frame. It was worth the ache and weakness flooding his limbs to hear Shōyō’s shaking voice asking, “What are you _doing_ here?” 

The warm tendrils of their instant Link spread through the taller boy’s chest, accompanied by Shōyō’s confused excitement. Tobio squeezed Shōyō tighter in response, but altogether too soon a smooth voice echoed, “I was wondering the same thing, Kageyama-kun.” 

The taller boy straightened but he kept Shōyō in the protective cage of his arms while he answered, “He can’t go.” The man in the suit was hovering close to Hinata’s back, too close for Tobio’s liking, and he expressed his displeasure with a dirty look. Even if he saw that man in passing years from now it would be too soon. 

To his surprise, it was Shōyō who answered, taking a step away and unwinding himself from Tobio’s hold. The other boy had returned to his original form and was clad in the suit he’d donned for his spacewalk months ago. His alien face twisted into a regretful smile. “You know I have to, Tobio,” he scolded gently. The redhead dropped his eyes to where his three digits were wrapped around Tobio’s five, and he dropped them with a frown. 

The defeated look which had no right to be on Shōyō’s face only fueled Tobio’s fire and he shouted, “No! They’re just going to make you hurt people! It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it?” Tobio gestured at the ships overhead as he spoke. “You have to fight them!”

“Come on, kid. You think we wouldn’t have a plan for this?” the man in the suit sneered. He clapped a hand on Hinata’s shoulder and steered him away from Tobio. Tobio lunged after him but the restraint of another agent pinned him to his spot. 

“Hi- _Shōyō_ ,” Tobio pleaded. The boy in question turned, his wide brown eyes full of surprise, and Tobio took his chance to continue, “Don’t give up! You promised that you wouldn’t let them do what they did to your planet, so you have to fight and make it back, OK? You have to come back! You’re my… you’re my best friend and I know you can do it!” Not for the first time did Tobio wish he was better with words, and his heart dropped into his stomach when Shōyō’s face fell. A wave of cold dismay washed over him as, in the next instant, the redhead plastered on the false, pointy-toothed grin that served as his mask. He flashed him a thumbs up before boarding his ship once more. 

The dredges of energy on which Tobio was running finally dissipated and he sank to the ground. Vaguely he registered a pair of cuffs being slapped on his wrists behind him, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt watching Shōyō lie to him. He churned his words over and over in his head, wishing desperately that he could redo the last few moments. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go: Shōyō was supposed to be empowered, spurred into action and determined to win. That was how it _worked_ , because love was _supposed_ to inspire—

The idea stole what remained of Tobio’s composure and his breath caught as the idea ripped open his lungs. He drew his knees to his chest so he could cover his burning face. It was unfair, he thought, that he would realize he was in love with Hinata Shōyō right before he lost him forever. Tobio’s head spun: he felt dizzy, sick, heartbroken. None of this was how it should be, but did he deserve more when he couldn’t even convince Shōyō that his own life was worth saving? If he said something now, shouted it as loud as he could, would that be the catalyst to change his mind? _I’m in love with you, Shōyō!_ he screamed inside, the words as intoxicating as they were devastating. 

Tobio opened his mouth, but all he could manage was to suck down another gulp of air which left him in a choked, unintelligible sob. He ached to be next to Shōyō, even if it was on board a ship that was powering on for its final flight. He lifted his eyes, uncaring how he looked, but the windows of the vessel were dark, offering no glimpse of the pilot. A moment later, the man in the suit disembarked with a smug grin that left Tobio nauseated. A quiet hiss and the ship’s door slid shut before it began a reluctant ascent above the trees. _Come back,_ he pleaded, _Don’t leave me,_ but Shōyō couldn’t hear him. With a soft and final _boom_ which radiated through Tobio’s chest, the ship and Hinata Shōyō were gone. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Shōyō’s entire body began to tremble the moment he sat in the pilot’s chair of his ship, and it had yet to stop. Tobio’s sudden and entirely unexpected appearance shook him, even if he’d also been flooded with happiness to see the other boy’s grumpy face. He may have spent nearly every moment of their separation wishing to be reunited, but seeing Tobio in reality when he’d never expected to again was almost worse. The alien rubbed his face in his hands, then grimaced at how clumsy he felt in the body he’d grown up in.

“Don’t let it get to you,” came the falsely understanding voice of the agent at his back. Shōyō winced, and the man narrowed his eyes at the action. “Focus on the plan,” he ordered, sounding significantly less sympathetic than moments before. “You can’t afford to think about anything else.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen though,” the redhead snapped, willing his hands to stop their shaking as he tapped his startup code into the ship’s computer. 

“That’s why we make contingency plans,” the man retorted. “You just do what we say and everyone wins.” 

For the thousandth time since hearing it, the alien shook his head, hands clenched into fists. “You don’t know the Strik,” he growled. “This won’t work the way you want it to.” 

“Right,” the agent said dismissively. “Well, I trust you’ll do what’s necessary in the end since your buddy’s life is on the line.” 

With an anguished whimper, Shōyō bowed his head over the console, allowing himself a moment to reel under the weight of his task. Then he straightened and jammed the last button in the ship’s power in sequence. Normally the answering hum soothed him, but he was far from any sort of comfort this day. The agent muttered something under his breath about children, then patted Shōyō on the shoulder. “Do your best,” he muttered, and with that lackluster parting, Shōyō was alone. 

As much as he disliked the government man, the alien wanted him to come back. Being alone meant that his time on Earth was finished. It meant he was forced to face the Strik. And Shōyō knew that this outcome was a result of his own selfishness and bad decisions. He could have, _should have_ ignored his and Tobio’s false hopes about the situation and gone when he was making the decision on his own. Instead, he was trapped to his seat as his ship made for Earth’s atmosphere against the insistent pull of gravity. 

The spherical map on his HUD blinked red, illuminating the dot of his enemies below him. Good. It looked like the flagship was following him off-planet for now, at least. But a more disturbing visual became quickly apparent in the vast number of points growing ahead of his position: the fleet waiting between the Earth and its moon. Not even clear from the planet and already Shōyō’s heart pounded out a panicked rhythm. 

_Stick to the plan,_ the agent’s voice drawled in his head. _Get to the coordinates and wait for the boarding ship._ Both the order and the brief increase of pressure that signified his imminent departure from Earth's atmosphere set Shōyō’s sharp teeth on edge. They didn’t know the Strik like he did; this wasn’t going to _work_ . The urge to vomit hit his stomach when he hit the weightlessness that normally made his heart sing with excitement. Moments later, the artificial gravity stabilizers kicked in and he settled once more into his seat along with a dread that descended on him along with gravity. But there was a prickle of something else at the edge of his consciousness that settled in, too. He cocked his head at his map, which was a sea of red dots edging closer, but the feeling was unrelated to what he felt staring down half the Strik fleet. What _was_ that? 

  
Then he gasped as his head flooded with a warmth and familiarity he hadn’t known in over a year. 

< **Dad?** > he cried, and the answer came, weak and hesitant but accompanied with relief and joy, < **Son?** >

In the span of a second, the Link between them flooded with the exchange of sentiment and questions and images. < **How are you here?** > Shōyō grimaced. 

With a series of choppy images, his father explained, < **Caught me after you left. Once they knew where you were, they brought me along. Been sedated a lot, just woke up. They don’t know I’m awake yet. Might have a few minutes.** >

Sedation made the disjointed and chaotic nature of his dad’s Link make sense. Rage swelled in his chest, but unlike any time in the past year, someone was waiting to absorb and soothe the emotion in seconds. Tears dripped from Shōyō’s chin to the pilot’s console below as he ground out, < **Why do they need you too?** > As far as Shōyō knew, his father’s gift of Seeing Patterns would be of little interest to a violence driven species like the Strik. 

Hesitance rippled across their Link, accompanied by something Shōyō had never experienced before with his own people: silence. But the infinitesimal pause passed and his father sighed, < **Collateral. To make sure you cooperate.** > Urgency touched by determination overtook his father’s tone as he added, < **You can’t do what they want. Won’t end well. Strik plan to take over this planet too before they go back.** > Beneath Shōyō’s feet his ship slowed; they were nearing the coordinated drop point. The large point on his map that was the Strik flagship loomed a little closer. His dad picked up instantly on the spike of fear that shot out from Shōyō’s end of the Link. < **Run or fight,** > he urged with a comforting feedback. 

< **The Earth governments want me to turn myself in and kill the General before he attacks,** > Shōyō relayed with a smattering of memories. He was careful to omit the unsavory moments of his time in custody. < **They think that’ll be enough but they don’t want to risk trying anything bigger.** >

The plan evoked a subdued anger from his father. < **Suicide mission,** > his father hissed. < **Small-minded plan. Selfish.** >

< **They’re not all so bad,** > Shōyō was quick to defend. He could feel his father’s weary smile come across, the anger settling into a simmer. < **Show me?** > he asked, and Shōyō did. The best parts of his time on Earth he recalled in a second: meeting Tobio; starting school; playing volleyball. Tobio at his side on the court and evenings spent studying in his room. A summer team trip to the coast and being doted on by Kageyama-san. Tobio’s awkward kindness and acceptance. Valentine’s chocolate. Tobio, Tobio, Tobio. Shōyō’s heart brimmed with warmth as the memories passed him by in a blink, and his dad answered in kind, overwhelmed with relief, then amusement and understanding that twinkled like a star. 

Shōyō’s little vessel slowed to a stop and he shuddered along with it. < **If you want to save everyone, then do what I say,** > his dad advised urgently. There was an edge to his words that Shōyō didn’t like, and as he transmitted his idea of what Shōyō should do, he balked. 

< **No!** > the boy panicked. < **I won’t—** >

< **You will,** > his father interrupted. He felt rushed, scattered, but he tried to overwhelm Shōyō with reassurance and calm. < **The star here is big enough. Just brace yourself like I showed. Don’t tip your hand too early. Only have, maybe, ten seconds to aim before shields come online, but you can. You have to.** >

The comms channel began to blink with an incoming request. Shōyō rubbed hard at his red, tear-streaked face. < **Not if you’re on board,** > he insisted as he accepted the communication. The video that blinked into life made him recoil, but not for the visage of the Strik General. No, it was the battered and bruised body of his father, bound and bolstered by a guard at the General’s side which saw Shōyō shrink. It was almost like looking into a mirror, his father’s face: curly hair, more russet then red; ruddy skin; eyes a lighter, more visibly gold. But injury marred his skin, one vibrant eye swollen shut and the empty space of missing teeth obvious behind thin bruised lips. His hair had been shorn unevenly, too, and what was left of it tried to defy the matting which clung close to his skull. Despite it all, his father offered the camera a toothy grin.

“Fugitive from planet MM-35,” the General addressed in Intergalactic Common Speech. Though its mirrored helmet allowed no trace of expression to be seen, Shōyō heard the satisfaction in its raspy tone. “The Strik Empire welcomes you.”

‘Welcome’ was a stretch and Shōyō grimaced, a disgusted sneer not unseen by the General. In one deft movement, the General wrapped its spindly fingers around the neck of Shōyō’s father. Even as his own fear lashed out and his father choked for air on video, his father urged on reassurance across their Link. 

“You’ll remain where you are until my soldiers retrieve you,” the General continued, “or I kill your lifegiver.” As if to emphasize his point, it tightened its grip on his father’s throat. 

“Stop!” Shōyō shouted. “I’ll wait!” 

The General scoffed at the demand and glanced to his left where Shōyō’s father twitched and gasped before releasing him. He crumpled to the floor off screen, but Shōyō felt the ripple of pain coming off him in waves. “This is why lesser species like yours will never reach the heights we have,” the General noted, turning its helmeted head back to the camera. “You let your emotions rule over logic. At least this planet is led by beings capable of enough intelligence to give you to me. They may serve the Strik Empire yet. If not, perhaps they’ll be the first test for our new weapon.” 

Shōyō’s stomach dropped as he realized exactly what the new weapon would be, but when he sucked in a breath, it came with a tendril of resistance. The Strik really believed they could use him as a weapon to hurt his friends? He’d rather die. Amid the hurt with which his father grappled, Shōyō felt him send back a note of pride and encouragement at his son’s growing discontent. < **When they send a transport,** > his dad gasped. < **Shields go down. Window to attack.** >

The shared pain but unwavering determination sparked a fire in his chest: Shōyō narrowed his dark eyes at the General and snarled, “Come get me, then,” then ended the communication. Wrenching himself from his chair, he hovered over the backlit console and tapped a few commands. The windows of the ship went black. In another few taps, he’d set the ship’s stabilizers to max.

< **He didn’t like that,** > his dad chuckled as he flashed over an image of the General snapping orders at everyone in the room. < **Don’t know if they realized we can talk at this distance or don’t care. They blindfolded me though. You have your helmet on?** >

Shōyō retrieved it from its cubby under his seat, put it on and ensured its seal. < **Dad, can’t you think of something else I can do?** > he pleaded. Doubt was sinking its claws back into his mind and he dragged his feet to the storage area outside the cockpit.

< **I know I’m asking too much,** > his father lamented, touched with regret and the image of their family, happy and carefree. < **I just want—** > His voice wavered, though a bittersweet swirl of sorrow and joy flowed through their Link. < **I want you to be happy and safe, but as long as the Strik exist you’ll be looking over your shoulder. And it’s not fair that you have to be responsible for this. We couldn’t protect you and I’m so sorry. I would rather die if it keeps you from becoming their prisoner, and I don’t have to think twice about it.** >

Shōyō’s eyes welled but he shook his head in an effort to stop them. With his helmet on there would be nothing he could do to stop it if he started crying. < **It’s not your fault,** > he settled for instead. Because it wasn’t, he knew. There was no one who could have predicted the Strik invading and finding out about his Gift. He stepped into a harness he’d pulled from a locker and shrugged the straps over his shoulders, clicking them into place where they converged on his chest. From the back a sturdy cable unspooled as he moved, his tie to the ship. He flexed his fingers, testing the energy that had gathered and still grew beneath his skin. < **Dad… what if it’s not enough?** >

< **It will be,** > his dad affirmed. He felt confident, and relayed a memory Shōyō was too young to recall. He watched himself toddle around outside, then clap his hands together excitedly at the glow that surrounded them. It was his father’s memory, and Shōyō felt the confusion then total shock as an infant child blasted the roof off of their house. His own surprise joined the memory, and his dad laughed, < **That was at three, and you’ve just gotten stronger. The star here is more than enough.** **_You’re_ ** **more than enough.** > With that assurance Shōyō could all but feel the hug in his words and his heart ached with love and pain at what he was being asked to do. 

< **Dad...** >

< **No more time,** > his dad interrupted with a grimace full of regret to cut him short. Shōyō’s heart began a frantic pace in response. From head to toe he felt hot and shaky, like he might tremble himself into jelly if left unchecked. In an instant his father was there, comforting him despite what he knew was coming. < **It’ll be OK. You can see the transport on the map, yeah? Get the energy you can while you’re still inside the ship, where they can’t see it. Ah, no tears now; you won’t be able to aim.** >

Despite himself, Shōyō let out a short, weak laugh as he let the energy of Earth’s sun build at his fingertips. < **Can’t help it,** > he admitted. < **I don’t want… I should’ve left Earth months ago. It’s my fault—** >

< **No, it’s not,** > his dad urged. < **I’m glad you stayed. You felt happy. Just… will you... tell your mother and sister I love them?** > His thoughts fractured and Shōyō’s heart went along with them, the light in his hands flickering until his dad was there once more with his support. 

< **I-I w-will,** > Shōyō cried. His chest constricted as he sealed off the ship’s tiny entryway and opened the door to the vacuum of space. It wasn’t fair that he was millions of lightyears from home fighting a battle he hadn’t asked for, would have blood on his hands he never wanted. Not only was he caught in the crossfire but his dad, too. He was sure nothing had ever hurt so much in his life, but his father’s presence enveloped him in warmth each beat his heart strayed. 

< **I know I’ve already put too much on you, but could you do one last thing for me?** > his dad whispered. 

Shōyō peered out from the open door, clinging to the handhold. The transport ship and the beginnings of the fleet were close enough to see with his light-sensitive eyes. He’d have to push off downward relative to his ship if he wanted to catch as much of the fleet as possible. < **Anything.** >

< **Think about something happy?** >

Shōyō grit his teeth, unable for a moment to reply. His throat was unbearably tight, his thoughts hazy, but finally he swallowed it down. < **No problem,** > he agreed. 

There was a wave of relief and pride, resignation, joy and grief that joined them, and his dad sighed, < **I love you, son.** >

< **I love you too, dad** ,> Shōyō said as he pushed himself, hands poised and bright, from his ship. 

A gentle nudge was all the energy needed to send him drifting, his tether unwinding lazily behind. Instinctually his brain reoriented, and rather than falling from his ship, he was rising above it to the perfect angle. Shōyō let his thoughts unfold with the tether: through his time on Earth with a wonderful friend he cared for, to the simpler times at home. He thought of him and his sister playing beneath a red star and sky and the way it felt when they were all together as a family: warm, safe, peaceful. Even at an eight minute delay, the energy he had already drawn from the sun was staggering. In the precious seconds during which he had been lining up his shot it swelled, and in the blink of an eye he held a small star. 

Shōyō could tell the moment the Strik realized what was happening, but he kept his mind’s eye trained carefully on a particular memory of a trip taken by his father and him when Shōyō had been eight or so years old. They’d left the city, ventured far enough that the hivemind was just a distant murmur. He recalled how elated he had been to have time with only his dad: no needy little sister, overbearing mom, or confusing jumble of voices. They’d gotten lost among the dense, twisting trees, but Shōyō hadn’t been afraid as his dad entertained them until they’d found a trail. After that, Shōyō had always thought of him as a hero. 

The star in his palms was bigger than his ship, and his arms quaked with the sheer amount of energy coursing through him. It had only been seconds but his eyes protested the blinding ball of light, burning and watering as his vision went blurry. Shōyō set his jaw and squinted at his target, then with a shout, he forced every bit of his remaining energy through his hands and released it, heart fixed stubbornly on the warm thread of love and reassurance echoed back to him. 

The beam of starlight shot across space almost too fast to process, and the force sent Shōyō snapping backward until his tether went taut. His ship engines flared with the strain of staying in place, and physics saw the alien flung around the body of the vessel at a nauseating pace. The air in his lungs left him as his chest collided with the alloy ship but the emergency magnetics in his suit kept him locked in place. He gasped with the effort, but Shōyō turned his head toward the Strik fleet. 

For one panicked second, Shōyō was sure he had missed. 

Then the flagship silently splintered in a brilliant but short-lived explosion as the fuel combusted and was extinguished in the span of a second. In a chain reaction each neatly organized row of ships followed suit. The force of it all rippled through the space between and Shōyō had little time to marvel: he disengaged the safety feature of his suit and scrambled back inside, just managing to engage his own shield when the first wave of shrapnel reached him. Only a handful of red dots remained on his map; they were fleeing.

Disbelief and excitement bubbled up in his chest, and in his moment of victory, he cried out across his thoughts, < **Dad!** >

Shōyō had grown accustomed to the silence in his year on Earth, but it had never been so devastating. 

  
  
  


He lost track of time, curled up in his chair while pieces of the Strik fleet ricocheted around him. Tears had long since dried on his cheeks, though, and the amount of debris had dwindled almost to nothing. He didn’t know what he should do, now. Did he return to Earth, only to be accosted once more by the Japanese government? Or did he turn his ship toward Andromeda, knowing another seven local years would have passed by the time he arrived? His sister would be older than him. His mother would have been, unbeknownst to her, a widow for seven years, her husband killed by their own son. 

_Was it worth it?_ Shōyō demanded of himself. Unsurprisingly he had no answer. He wouldn’t for a while, he supposed. His dad had assured him this was what he wanted, but it did little to assuage the guilt which had bloomed alongside his grief. 

A dulcet beep started the alien from his stupor. He blinked several times at the lighted dashboard. He had an incoming communication request. “H-hello?” he croaked after tentatively tapping his confirmation. 

“Oh, wow. Hey kid. I really didn’t expect an answer,” a surprised voice replied. Soft in the background, but wholly familiar, Shōyō also heard, “Is that Hinata? Did he answer?”

“Tobio?” he breathed. 

The primary voice- the agent, Shōyō assumed- snorted, but after a short shuffle, Tobio gasped, “Hinata? Are you alive?”

Tobio’s voice was welcome and needed. Familiar, easy, and an anchor in the storm of unknowns in Shōyō’s life. “I couldn’t talk if I was dead, dummy,” he sputtered. The tears which he’d thought finished spilled over once more, but a weak smile made itself known, too.

He imagined Tobio’s face coloring with indignation in the short silence that followed. But when the other boy spoke again, it was with an uncharacteristic softness. “Are you coming home?” The alien’s eyes widened, breath caught in his throat. Home was somewhere he couldn’t identify anymore. It wasn’t Earth, not really, but he wasn’t certain it was Andromeda either. Shōyō sniffled, a noise which Tobio must have heard, because after a moment he quietly added, “The secret agent guy said they would work something out, since you saved Earth or whatever.” 

“Should I?” Shōyō choked out. “Go back to Earth?”

“Yes!” Tobio exclaimed, then coughed, “I-If you want to.” 

Shōyō’s heart still ached like it had been ripped apart. Despite what he’d been through, it also gave a hopeful throb. “Do you want me to?” he wondered. 

Despite the vast space between them, Shōyō could discern the relieved quality of Tobio’s sigh when he replied, “Of course.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tobio was pacing the grass into shreds when the man in the suit muttered, “Can you sit down? You’re making _me_ anxious.” 

The boy paused, made eye contact with the man for a moment, then resumed pacing. The agent sighed but didn’t press it. Shortly after Shōyō had flown off they’d released Tobio since there was nothing left with which he could interfere. Surprisingly, the man had only shrugged when Tobio had declared his intention to stay there until they knew what had happened. 

It simultaneously seemed like minutes and hours when the head agent’s phone rang and he barked orders that sent the other agents and scientists into a frenzy. Tobio whipped around, startled at the sudden activity, and found himself clinging to the man he hated. “What’s going on?” he demanded

To his credit, the agent cast an amused look at Tobio before gently disengaging his arm from his grasp. “Got word that our mutual friend went rogue.”

“What?” Tobio gasped.

“But,” the man continued, “it appears to have worked out in our favor. Lil’ Red managed to take out the majority of those alien baddies.” 

A surge of pride and overwhelming relief saw Tobio sink to his knees. Shōyō had decided to fight back. And he won! A bubble of laughter sputtered from his lips and he covered the grin spreading across his face with his hand. He _knew_ Shōyō could do it, but he was curious about what had changed between their last meeting. Once the little redhead came back, he would have to ask—

Oh. Would he be allowed back?

Tobio glanced around until he located the head agent once more and staggered over to where he was giving directions to a harried looking lady at a hastily assembled computer station. “Let Hinata come back to Earth,” he stated without preamble. 

The agent jumped and scowled, “Should’ve put a bell on you. You’re getting ahead of yourself, Kageyama. We have to figure out if he’s even alive, first.” Tobio’s heart plummeted and he swallowed back the worry which had resumed its stranglehold on his chest. “ _Luckily,_ Lil’ Guy gave us a way to reach his ship. Which is what we’re trying to do right now.” 

“So if he is, he can come back?” Tobio pressed with a frown. 

Narrowing his eyes, the man appraised him, then grinned. “What kind of power do you think I have?” the agent teased. “An alien living on Earth would need a whole identity made. Legal documentation. A guardian who can provide for his every need.” 

Tobio tried to quell the hopeful, wide-eyed gaze he was sure was trying to take over his face. “That doesn’t seem like much to ask for the person who apparently saved the planet.” 

“Oh, kid,” the agent smirked. “You’re totally hopeless.” 

“Sir!” the technician behind them called. “The signal went through!”

  
  
  


As the soft glow of Hinata’s ship grew closer, Tobio’s heart began to pound. He felt like he was about to vibrate out his skin with how nervous he was, and for once he didn’t try to keep it from showing. When the ship touched down, Tobio sucked in a breath and held it. 

The door of the ship swung open. Tobio barely registered his legs moving, but all the air in his chest left him when Shōyō’s arms clamped around him and squeezed. He felt the alien shudder and burst into tears and his own eyes welled in response. The Link struck Tobio with more desperation than usual, and in a moment he was flooded with a tumult of anguish that made his own heart break. “H-Hinata?” he whispered, “What—?” but the redhead shushed him. Confused but unwilling to relinquish the moment, Tobio nodded, his cheek rubbing against the small alien’s curly hair. He felt Shōyō’s presence tap against his own mind and Tobio caved easily. Words never came to him very well, but he pushed as much comfort as he could across their Link. He allowed himself to feel the joy that Shōyō was safe, the hope for things to be better. He didn’t hold back when he thought about being in love. Thoughts wouldn’t transfer between them anyway, but Shōyō would feel something, and Tobio hoped it would bring his friend solace. 

For several minutes the two stood unbothered in their tearful reunion. When Shōyō finally let out a soft hiccup that broke through his slowing tears, the agent finally spoke up. “Welcome back, _Hinata_ ,” he drawled. 

Shōyō lifted his head from Tobio’s chest, and Tobio took note of the weariness that seemed to permeate his eyes. Both boys remained quiet, waiting. The agent raised an eyebrow and said, “Looks like you did what needed doing. We owe you one. What do you say about staying here on Earth? We sure would feel great knowing we can count on you if the going gets tough. You’ll have everything you need, of course.”

Tobio felt a surge of anger from Hinata just before the alien stepped away, hands balled into fists. “I’m nobody’s weapon,” he hissed. “If that’s the condition, the answer is no.” 

Before Tobio could let out his own panicked rebuttal, to his surprise the agent beat him to it with a stammered, “O-OK, wait! We won’t ask you to do anything like that ever again. Just, maybe let us have a look at your technology, alright? That’s not a big ask.”

Tobio watched Shōyō from his periphery as the other boy contemplated. He’d referred to himself as a weapon, and Tobio could understand why he’d been so angry- and in turn he wanted to shrink from guilt. They hadn’t been any better than the Strik who wanted to use Shōyō for their own purposes. Tobio had even encouraged him to fight. As much as Tobio could say that fighting back was the best option for Shōyō in the long run, it was, in reality, the most selfish option too. He knew all along the decision weighed heavily on Shōyō, and it resulted in the grief-stricken boy before him. “Hinata,” he whispered, taking the redhead by the shoulders. Tobio couldn’t help the crack in his voice as he said, “You should do what you think is best. Don’t worry about what I want, and definitely not what that guy wants. What do you want?”

From beneath messy copper bangs, Shōyō offered him a grateful look as his body relaxed under Tobio’s hands. “I think I’d just like to sleep,” he admitted. 

With a nod, Tobio turned and glowered at the agent, who adopted a bemused expression. “He’ll get in touch with you later,” the tall boy informed, looking down his nose imperiously. He doubted it looked as intimidating as he wanted considering the unwavering grin on the agent’s face. 

“Well, I suppose I can live with that,” the agent responded as he reached in his pocket. Both boys tensed, but the man merely proffered a business card which Shōyō took. Tobio wrinkled his nose at the plain card, which only stated, ‘ _Tanaka Jin_ ,’ along with a phone number. The man could not have been more unremarkable. “We’ll get you a ride and some time to fix your face; can’t have you walking around like that. I... look forward to hearing from you,” Agent Tanaka said, but after a pause, he sighed and bowed deeply at the waist. Tobio and Shōyō shared a bewildered look but the show of respect was brief. Seconds later the besuited man snapped to attention and began barking orders to his people. 

For a moment, the two watched the scene break down with practiced ease. Then Tobio turned back to Shōyō and asked, “You want to come home with me?”

An odd expression passed over his alien face which Tobio couldn’t readily identify, but it settled into a soft smile. Shōyō wove his arm through Tobio’s and nodded. “Let’s go home.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q-Q


	13. Epilogue

Tobio wiped the sweat from his forehead and dropped his tired body onto the gym floor. Across the net, Shōyō whined, “I almost have it, Tobio! Just five more minutes.”

“I’m cutting us off,” the taller boy sighed. “That practice match against Date Tech is tomorrow. We need to sleep.” 

With a huffy grumble, the redhead conceded his defeat after kicking the nearest volleyball in Tobio’s direction. It hit him in the calf and he shouted, “Get over here so I can kick your ass!” He didn’t bother moving, though, and Shōyō stuck out his tongue before flitting about to clean. 

After a few moments watching a humming Shōyō pick up their mess, Tobio stretched then rose to his own feet. The spring of their second year in high school was already underway, both boys having graduated by some miracle (or government prodding. Tobio wasn’t sure). He couldn’t believe they were already halfway to summer break. It brought to mind the melancholy words of his former upperclassman, advice given in hushed tones following a brutal defeat: _it’s over before you know it._ “H-Hinata?” Tobio ventured as the two met at the ball cart. 

The redhead narrowed his amber eyes at the taller boy and elbowed him in the side. “Why do you look so annoyed already? I didn’t even say anything yet!” 

“You don’t have to say anything to be annoying,” Tobio retorted, grabbing a handful of orange curls and ducking the shorter boy into the cart. _There’s still time,_ he thought as the alien squawked and scrambled to right himself. Watching the brief struggle brought a smirk to Tobio’s face, which Shōyō made an exaggerated show of cowering from once he saw. He was too quick this time for Tobio to catch. 

“I’m gonna tell my mom you’re picking on me,” the alien informed with a haughty frown that was in no way serious. “No amount of gratitude she had before will save you from her wrath now.” 

“I think I’ll manage,” Tobio said dryly, though after a pause he added, “She wouldn’t actually be mad at me, right?” 

Shōyō snorted as he pushed the full cart toward the storage room. “Puh-lease,” he drawled. “She would probably get a kick out of it. She already loves you more than she does me.” 

There were words on the tip of Tobio’s tongue, but he swallowed them down before he embarrassed himself. It took a moment of him taking down the net to compose himself, during which time Shōyō had trotted over to their belongings to take a swig of water. “How is she and your sister?” Tobio asked politely instead. 

Rejoining him, the alien shrugged, his face growing pensive. “Better every time we talk, I think,” he admitted. “I think hearing everything that happened with my dad gave them closure. Plus they're rebuilding now so they’re staying busy.” He gave a short shake of his head, then flashed Tobio a cheeky grin. “You’d know that if you hadn’t skipped out on the video chat last night.” 

Tobio was still working up the courage to get onboard Shōyō’s ship, much less the courage to venture into space to be part of a video call to his alien friend’s family. Shōyō reported everything back to him of their conversations, which often included him, and for now that was enough. They had dubbed Tobio ‘the shy one,’ according to Shōyō. Though Tobio wouldn’t say as much, it wasn’t only shyness or hesitancy about space travel that kept him from the conversation. Part of him still worried that the talks would involve Shōyō planning to go home, a topic they had avoided. He told himself there was time, over and over, even if he wasn’t sure there was. 

“M-maybe next time,” he mumbled as he always did. Shōyō snickered, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence as they made quick work of the remainder of their mess. By the time they started the walk home, the small redhead was chattering away about plans to meet up with Oikawa and Iwaizumi that weekend and his intent to drag along Tobio as well. The tall boy groaned, but the prospect wasn’t nearly as disagreeable as it had been before “Aliengate,” as Oikawa so dubbed it in his blog. The fact that the world had been exposed to the existence of hostile aliens in such an abrupt manner was still resulting in a slew of global changes. Not that Tobio paid attention to non-volleyball news: he heard so from his mom, who marveled that aliens could exist without knowing one practically lived with them. The only changes for which Tobio cared were the ones which Agent Tanaka made happen once Shōyō decided to stay on Earth for the time being: a real identity for him; an apartment (which he didn’t sleep in much); a bank account with more zeros than Tobio had ever seen in his life; and the promise that Shōyō would never be forced to do anything he didn’t want to do. 

When both boys, sweaty and panting after an impromptu argument and subsequent race to determine the winner (Tobio), arrived home, Mayumi Kageyama was there with dinner and a smile. The house was filled with laughter as they recounted their day (another brief argument about whether or not Tobio had snored during class- he had). After a scarfed down meal, she ushered them upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. 

There were some nights Shōyō collapsed into Tobio’s bed with him after his shower. On those nights, he wore a gloomy frown and itched for a Link, clinging to Tobio beneath the sheets. It was guilt, more often than not, for what happened at the end of February- what he’d had to do. Sometimes it was guilt for his father’s death, but sometimes remorse for the sheer quantity of lives lost, enemy or not. Even if Tobio didn’t like the pain it had caused Shōyō, or that it was a decision his friend had to make at all, he relished the closeness it brought them. With their thoughts connected, Tobio reminded him that it wasn’t his fault and he was still Hinata Shōyō, the person he loved. Not that the thoughts ever relayed exactly. (He’d finally asked what Shōyō heard or felt when they were Linked, and he’d less-than-helpfully replied, “The stars.”)

That night, though, Shōyō was in good form, and collapsed with a grateful groan into the guest futon which never left its spot by Tobio’s bed. “We’re gonna kick Date Tech’s butts tomorrow,” he affirmed with a gleeful grin. “Then it’s just a couple months until the prefectural qualifiers!” 

“Don’t forget the other practice matches, dumbass,” Tobio reminded.

A head of orange hair popped up from the floor and Shōyō made a mocking face at him. Tobio swiped at him halfheartedly. “Hey, Tobio?” the redhead started, propping himself up on the edge of Tobio’s bed. The sudden gentleness of his voice in the dark room sent a shiver down Tobio’s spine.

“What?” he whispered. 

Shōyō was quiet for a while. The only evidence that he hadn’t fallen asleep was the dip in Tobio’s bed when Shōyō leaned onto it. Tobio was about to ask again when the alien finally said, “I’m glad it was you. Out of everyone it could have been when I first got here.” 

The sentiment warmed him from head to toe, and Tobio buried his face into his pillow to hide the flush creeping onto his cheeks, even though his friend wouldn’t be able to see it. “Me too,” he mumbled, the response muffled but no less sincere. He couldn’t have foreseen this outcome that evening more than a year ago when he’d agreed to bring home an alien. He wondered how different his life could have been, in another life, a different reality where they didn’t meet the way they had. In none of those scenarios was he quite as happy as he was now. 

Some other time he would relay all that to Shōyō. For whatever time he was gifted, Tobio was content to be a friend. He hoped it would be a long time; maybe anything short of forever wouldn’t be long enough. 

He grumbled something to hide his embarrassment, telling Shōyō to shut up and go to sleep. With a snort, his friend crawled back into his own blankets, leaving behind a warmth that lingered in Tobio’s chest. _Some other time,_ he affirmed as he peeked from his pillow to see the outline of orange curls in the darkness. He would relish the time he was given, and Tobio thanked all the stars which had blessed him with Hinata Shōyō.

  
  


THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to the end! What a journey this was. I really enjoyed writing this and I’m proud to have finished! If you already read Coming Home, then you know how this romance wraps up :) I plan to edit it a bit just to fix some timeline stuff that wasn’t hammered out when I originally wrote that as a one shot. The bulk of the content will remain the same though! 
> 
> I really appreciate every comment and every kudo y’all have given me. It’s inspiring and encouraging, especially in those times when I’m stumped or unmotivated. Also, a weird fluffy story about aliens probably isn’t high on the list of things fans want to read, so the fact that you did? Awesome. I love y’all!! 
> 
> That concludes this story! Stay weird my friends! The truth is out there!

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kittytoastnjam) and [Instagram](www.kittytoastnjam.tumblr.com/) @Kittytoastnjam. I do some drawing, mostly Haikyuu fanart at the moment.


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